The Mickey Mouse scamper

Mickey Mouse lives in our laundry room.
Dad saw him scoot across the floor and run under the dryer.
Mom is not happy. But I am.
Mickey! I squeal.

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My purple toe nail

I drop a can of tinker toys on my big toe. I scream and wail.
Take it off, I cry.
“I don’t understand,” Mom says. And looks at the can that has rolled away.
My ow-wie, I tell her. Take it off!
“I wish I could, baby,” Mom says. And hugs me tight.

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Ew. Cooties.

I still carry my tummy egg around with me. It will not go away.
I need comfort. I curl up next to Dad on the couch. We watch TV. And I am fine for a while.
Until I cough. And then puke. All over Dad.
Dad yells. I cry. Mom comes running.
“What happened?” she asks.
My spread my [...]

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Stop on red

I have a red top on. And red pants.
I pull on a red hat. And red mittens.
My stop sign, I laugh.

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Tummy egg

I have a tummy egg.
It is no fun to have an egg in the tummy.
It hurts.

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It never hurts to ask

I point to the small dog.
Momma, I ask, is that your dog?
“Yes,” Mom says.
Daddy’s dog? I ask. And point to the big dog.
“Yes,” Mom says.
I throw my hands in the air. Palms up.
Where’s my dog? I ask.
“Nice try,” Mom laughs. And hands me one of my stuffed dog dolls.
Okay, I say.

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Where did you get those prunes?

I play and play in the tub. For a long, long time.
My done, I say. Finally.
Mom helps me out of the bath water and dries me off. She points to my toes.
“They are prunes,” she laughs.
Grandma gave them to me, I say.

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