Age Four Is Coming

I run around frantically, grabbing up anything that could be used as a weapon. I forgot those scissors were down there, next to the bath tub. Suddenly I remember the black magic marker I thought I could leave out. I make a mad dash for the living room. Spot a bottle of pills with the lid off on the kitchen table as I breeze past. Collecting, throwing, hiding, as fast as I can. Age four is coming, and we only had twenty-two minutes warning. They arrive, having no idea how fast I have been moving. Only my hair reflects it, and it always looks like this.