Minnie Jo Franklin, just what do you think you are doing? An exasperated mother turned and called out to a child, crouched down, holding a worm.
Studying nature! The child yelled back.
Move it or no treats. The mother said and resumed walking. Treats are the best, the mother thought. Minnie took her mom’s hand.
I think so too. Minnie said. Her mother distractedly crunched her face into a half squint half questioning wrinkled forehead look and prepared to guide her daughter across the street.
What? The mother said as she looked both ways before pulling Minnie by the hand just a little too hard. Subtle revenge; she was a mother and tired.
Treats are the best! Minnie chirped. The wrinkles in the mother’s forehead grew a little deeper, making the lines of time more pronounced with each unconscious flexing of facial muscles.
Oh. The mother missed a beat in her strut. Did I say that aloud, she thought? She looked down at Minnie. Minnie smiled.
I’m holding you with my wormy hand Mommy. She shot her mother a very signature Minnie face and her mother laughed.
By the time they entered the store, the mother forgot all other thoughts except an extreme hatred of the overwhelming reek of incense in the store. What do they have back there, a shrine…