Recoil

by Leslie

Just because I predicted it yesterday doesn’t mean I was prepared. 

Today, Julia threw my toothbrush in the toilet, ate half of a yellow crayon, chewed on the zucchini I purchased for tomorrow’s dinner (Mediterranean Strata), and pooped on the floor somewhere between getting her out of the bathtub and trying to get her dressed.  

Exasperated, I asked her, “What is with you today?”

“I’m 2-years-old!” 

“Yeah, you are.”


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