“Show her!” Pleaded the elder son.
“Noooo!” whined the younger.
At the kitchen sink their mother stopped washing dishes for a moment, closed her eyes and ran through several scenarios in her head.
Had they decapitated her prized orchids? Was there a brick in a pile of glass on the front seat of the neighbor's car? Was one child missing a finger now? Nah, not enough crying for that one.
She sighed, ceased her musing and opened her eyes to find the boys peeking at her from the doorway.
“...Yes?”
“Junior fell and lost his front teeth.”
She released a sigh of relief. Those were wobbly baby teeth on their way out any day now after all. All part of growing up. But the boys still looked a little too nervous.
“Wait, how many teeth and how??”
In lieu of an explanation, Junior held out an open palm with five tiny bloody teeth in it.
Boy momming. It's not for the faint of heart 😅. I have had the crap scared out of me so many times I'm probably immune by now.
But anyway, this is normally where I would link to the prompt post but I'm a day late so I won't bother. If I'm careful I might be able to catch up in a few days though. We'll see.
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