We arrived in Seattle last week to find a toy guitar waiting for you. You took to it like probably no other toy you've owned, climbing into chairs to sit and strum it for a while then dragging it along behind you while you toured the house and played one-handed with other toys. You even held it during diaper changes.
Infatuated even with the trapezoidal box it came in, you spent a lot of time and expressed great frustration trying to put it neatly into the box, and fit the lid, just to take it right back out again. And again. And again.
We recycled that box shortly after returning home.
Dad
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