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Broody

I hear the sound of little feet pitter-pattering down the hallway trying to sneak into the kitchen without a sound. They have failed. Trying to sneak a few chocolate bars, sweets, ice-cream at five in the morning. I sigh, not unhappily but in slight amusement that they’re as dumb and naive as you were at that age. Thinking they can outsmart you.

I take my time to wake up and go to the kitchen. I’ll have a bit of a treat then act angry and send them back to their room. Now I have a get out of jail free card when I don’t want to play tag with them later.

I enter the kitchen and find them stuffing themselves with potatoes chips after somehow breaking through the lock I placed on the cupboard doors. Nevermind, this little tyrant is smarter than me. How did they even they do that?

They look up at me with big, doe eyes, knowing they’ve been busted. They continue look at me wondering what their punishment will be.

“You know you’re not supposed to eating that in the morning.” I scold, trying to sterner than I actually feel. In fact I want some chips myself. I sit beside them and take the packet from them. “Don’t do that ever again. But this morning we can have chips together,”

They instantly perk up and snuggle up beside me. “But you eating your broccoli tonight at dinner” I continue. They pause for a moment wondering the chips are worth facing broccoli. Then they murmur a quiet “okay” and we finish the chips together. I have always loved Simba’s Mrs. Balls Chutney. When my husband walks in on us later with our mouths full of crumbs. It’s me and not our kid who explains that we’re eating our broccoli for dinner.

And when I wake later and no husband and kid I feel a little irritated and very disappointed. And everything irritates me at that moment including the flatness of my stomach where no human life is or has been formed.

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