Keeping up with Lottie

Lottie Boggan

“Gran Lottie, I want me a Happy Meal,” four-year-old granddaughter Peyton issued instructions from her carseat in the back.

“We can’t stop,” I answered.

“You got me a Happy Meal yesterday.”

Was that a reminder or a reprimand?

“Grand Willard and I had to go to the bank this morning, so we’re running late.”

Peyton’s bottom lip popped into a pout and her head dropped to her chest. A sadder looking child could not be found.