| Thursday, August 30, 2007 |
| Golden Tinkle |
She's rushing about, trying to drink her coffee, put on an earring, tie this ones shoe, and usher that one out of the shower.
Ten minutes til drop off.
She butters toast with one hand and pours milk with the other.
Phone rings, answering machine. He is calling already.
She rolls her eyes and checks backpacks for homework.
Shoving a book into one, she unzips the other, then the third.
All seems well.
She writes down back to school night, soccer at six and seven, dentist at two.
She spies movement out the back door and her heart leaps.
What the hell is that?
She stands and rushes to the glass.
A golden stream arches up, over and to the bottem of the stairs.
He is peeing out the back door.
She stifles a laugh, opens the door and tells him to do it in one of the two toilets!
The stairs are not your personal piss pot.
Get the hose and spray it off!
He does.
His father would be so proud. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 7:58 AM  |
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