The Garage Door Opener
Last night my granddaughter, Bella, and I were doing one of her favorite things, which is explore my car. It's something she wants to do everytime she comes to my house and last night was no different. She explored it twice--once with her Pappaw and once with her Mammie. (Yes, she calls me Mammie. I have no idea why. Didn't tell her to, but don't care.) Anyway, standing in the driver's seat, which is where she loves to stand, she pushed every button in the entire car, moved every mirror, pushed open this little glove-box thingy I don't know the name to. (I just know it holds stuff like an old set of keys that has mace on it, preferred customer cards that I no longer use from places like Stein Mart and CVS Drugstore, old sweet and low packets, my ipod and card that I use when I go to Parks & Rec., etc. and the mailbox key I use everyday.) Each one of these she hands me, one at a time, everytime we explore the car. I proceed to hand them back to her and she retur