This is my basket. If I could write, I’d make a sign that read, “Olivia’s Basket” using the darkest, most permanent marker I could find. See how well this basket fits me? It’s like it was made for me and only me. Not for my brothers or my bigger sisters. It’s Olivia size. This basket wasn’t here yesterday. It grew up here overnight, just for me because it knew I was looking for a place just for me.
My dad said I look very cute and comfortable in my basket. And then he said not everyone has a basket for their very own. Really? He can’t be serious, can he? That’s an outrage!
Come to think of it, no one else around here has a basket, so I guess my dad might be on to something. That dad… sometimes I think he knows what he’s talking about.