Working on a Flash Fiction Piece
The emotions you make me feel are like mysterious items from the attic; what are they? And what do I do with them? I dream of asking what you would do with them. Or if you even know, or have noticed.
Summer Reading
It's so simple, really. I took the kids that I nanny to the library to sign them up for the summer reading program, thrilled that both have a love of reading and honored to foster the joy of reading. The way their program works is the child gets rewarded for time spent reading. To mark this, you get to put different beads onto a necklace. The beads represent units of time, and each bead gets bigger and better with each increment. The 15-minute beads are small and basic; the 4-hour beads are large and animal shaped, etc. I took this to mean, for example, you could choose 4, 15-minute beads or 1, 1-hour bead, and that was that. However, the librarian explained to the kids that if they decided they wanted to trade in, say, 4 small beads for the one-hour bead, that was fine. All summer long, they could trade beads as their minds and tastes changed. As this trivial information hit me, I reflexively flinched, thinking about how this whole scenario would have gone in my...
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