I sit criss-cross applesauce and look up at my house.
Mommy is working and I have to wait for her to come back.
I pick at the lint on my pants. Waiting is hard. I don’t like to wait. Especially when I’m hungry.
Maybe she won’t know if I don’t wait.
With a glance around, I stand and walk to my house. I bend and take a bite out of the side. My teeth sink into soft graham and sweet icing.
I’m glad I didn’t wait. Then I pull a gumdrop from my gingerbread house and begin to eat.
@Laura L. Zimmerman 2016