A Plea

Dear Mr. Bee,

Perhaps I should rent A Bee Movie. I'm not totally familiar with your job. But from what I've gathered during these three and a half years of my life, I'm pretty certain the words bee and pollen go together in some way. Therefore, I'm writing you to plead on my mommy's behalf (and mine and Grant's) for some help. Yes, we need you. I know, I know, I've screamed at you several times. Forgive me. I'm young. You see, Mommy is having a hard time going outside with us. She says the pollen is making her sick. And, well, if Mommy doesn't go outside with us, it means we can't be pushed on the swings, we can't ride our bikes in the cul-de-sac, we can't leave the premises of our backyard. This is a problem. So, can you do your bee thing and like, suck up all that pollen and put it where it should go? Like on flowers? Forgive my ignorance. Just chalk it up to the fact I'm three. But surely, there is something you can do. For the sake of our sanity. We must go outside. I can't watch Mommy iron anymore clothes. So please, quit playing around. We need you. We need you desperately.

Sincerely,

Hannah E. Harman (the one who's bike you're on)