Baby Taylor Protect The Planet
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Taylor and Jessica bounced toward the park, backpacks stuffed with marshmallows and sleeping bags, only to freeze at the campsite’s edge. Trash cluttered every picnic table—soda cans rolled in the dirt, plastic wrappers snagged on bushes, crumpled napkins swirling in the breeze. “This is *disgusting*,” Taylor groaned, kicking a dented water bottle. “Let’s just go home.” Jessica frowned, unzipping her bag. “Wait—remember what your mom said last week? *‘Leave places better than you find them.’*” Taylor groaned louder but yanked a garbage bag from Jessica’s hand. “Fine. But if we find anything gross, *you’re* touching it.” They filled three bags, laughing when Jessica shrieked at a “spider” (a leaf) and Taylor unearthed a half-buried frisbee. “Keep it!” Jessica insisted. “Trophy for surviving the Great Garbage War.” With the site spotless, they strung fairy lights between trees, draped blankets over logs, and stacked smooth stones into a tiny firepit. Twilight painted the sky as they roasted marshmallows, the frisbee repurposed as a plate. “Okay,” Taylor admitted, licking sticky fingers, “this beats sulking on the couch.” Jessica grinned, raising her charred marshmallow. “To not-quite-camping!” Their laughter echoed—clean, silly, and weirdly perfect.
