Thursday, August 15, 2013

The only serious writing I'm going to get done this morning:

A Family Drama, written especially for Lyric Cole:

The house had been declared an official  disaster zone once the infamous Lyric Cole had spent a solid hour in it. Grandma Nessa was frustrated with the situation, but not necessarily intolerant. She was, after all, the grandmother and (luckily for everybody involved) not the mother.

Go Fish cards had been scattered across the living room floor, under the couches, and well into the kitchen. Tiny, green, army men had fortified the reading nook, and bits of an abandoned PB&J were finding comfort in the cozy spaces between bare toes.

Lyric kept asking whether or not Little Cousin Damon was going to show up that day, claiming there was nothing to do. He needed a playmate. Grandma Nessa had a sneaky suspicion that if Damon had dared to make an appearance, Lyric would have found a way to blame that tornadic mess on him.


  1. I believe he's implicating space aliens in that drawing he's making of the real culprit.

  2. Second and/or third on the alien thing. I think of that old saying of grandparents, how they get to give the whelp in question back...

    1. That is a nice perk. The only reason I had kids to begin with was so I'd have the luxury of returning my spoiled, over-sugared, excitable grandchildren home with them. :) (That's what you call "family planning.")

  3. Boys are boys forever. I've got some experience with this myself. Sometimes it can be advantage to be the grandmother rather than the mother >:)

    Cold As Heaven