can I go Mom

I am off to join the carnival Can I go, Mom? Can I go? No, honey, you have to stay here. Learn to cook. Sweep the floor. It is so much fun! I run from the house, wearing my favorite tutu It is a bit tight around the waist, but that’s okay. When I get to the carnival someone asks me if I am kidding. That is when I realize there is a child wrapped around my waist. She apparently would not take no for an answer. I apologize for wasting the ringmaster’s time saunter home, resigned to cooking and cleaning for fourteen more years “I am joining the carnival when you go to college,” I tell my offspring. She nods, apparently okay with it.