A Short Story

This is my baby.

With a wet head.

Dripping Wet.

Wet with water? 

No.

This is my baby's head after his brother coated his hair with furniture polish.

This is my baby.

My traumatized little baby.

This is my baby looking at me.

This is what his face is telling me...

"Seriously Mama, don't you know by now that you shouldn't leave me in the playroom without you?"

"Even just to put clothes in the dryer."

"See what happens when you do that."

This is my baby smelling like lemons with the greasiest hair I've ever seen.

This is the guilty party.

This is just one of the many things he did today that jeopardized my sanity.

This is the boy who thought his younger brother needed "dusting."

Thankfully, this boy has great aim and only sprayed his brother's hair.

His brother's eyes and skin appreciate his marksmanship.

This is how the culprit sat in time out.

This is the boy who giggled when I told him to, "sit the way you're suppose to!"

This is the smile he flashed me after he flipped over.

This is the boy that then asked me, "Mama, are you mad at me?"

And these are the words that keep crossing my mind...

Military School.