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.
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