Delia woke to a screaming baby this morning like almost every morning. She’d already kissed and seen her successful husband off to his job as a high-powered attorney an hour earlier.
Baby Mikey on her hip, she woke her seven year old, Shane, for school. As usual, he balked, didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to get dressed. She eventually bribed him out of bed with the promise that he could wear his Wizards of Waverly Place t-shirt. With the baby happily sucking down a bottle in his playpen, she tore apart Shane’s room looking for the promised shirt. She found it in a crumpled heap in the corner, the reeking stench of cat urine overpowering.
“Dammit, Mr. Jingles! That’s the second time this week.”
In a fit of madness, she pulled a tshirt from her husband’s drawer and grabbed a magic marker and wrote “Wizard-in-training for the Wizards of Waverly Place” on the front and “Master Shane” on the back. She drew a couple of Harry Potter’ish lightening bolts on the shoulders. Continue reading
Claire Gillian 