Mess

beth stickyWe were enjoying our budget al fresco dinner of pizza straight out of the box on my mom’s front steps.  It had been a long day of working in the yard and that’s all we had the energy to do for dinner.  Max sat happily on the steps covered in dirt and ice cream sticky.  (My mom’s house is the fun house.)  She started chowing on some pizza adding red sauce to the nastiness that was covering her face.

For reasons only known to her, Max decided to stand up with her plate and move to a different spot.  On the way to the new location (three steps away) her slice of pizza slid off of her plate and landed on the step.  She started sobbing with big crocodile tears.  “My pizza!  It’s yucky!”

“It’s ok, Beth.  You can have another piece.  There’s more in the box.  Here.”  Mom gave her another piece of pizza and Max sat back down.

She put her greasy little fingers to her face feeling around her sticky cheeks.  “I need a napkin,” she said.  “There’s crying all over me.”

Among other things.

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