The school bus was not scheduled to pull up for another twenty minutes. Six-year old Rebecca, my youngest child, needed both hands to yank the old, heavy kitchen door open, desperately attempting a quick escape for some free time before school. As the door squeaked open, I looked up in surprise.
Before I could comment, Allison , one of her many older sisters, whipped around from the kitchen counter and remarked
”Rebecca, did you try to do your hair again? The part’s crooked. Come over here and I’ll fix it for you.”
As she slumped towards Allison, Claire entered the kitchen at the same time and looked her little sister up and down,
” Mum couldn’t have picked those clothes for you to wear. The top does not match your sweater. You’ll have to change or keep the sweater buttoned up all day.”
As she stood in the middle of our large farm kitchen, fumbling with tricky buttons, Mary yelled from the bathroom,
“Rebecca, you forgot to brush your teeth again!”
Suddenly Rebecca through her arms up into the air and huffed out in exasperation,
“All right, all right everybody. Quit trying to dismember me!”
mother of nine9 
Aww–poor kid. At least she could speak up for herself!
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yea…she is a teen nwo and still quite articulate…and funny
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That’s great! Take what you’ve been dealt and use it to your advantage, right? 🙂
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right 🙂
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