Weapons of Small Destruction

You used to come home from school grab two-handfuls of wooden building blocks and take one brooding look at the Lego cities I’d carefully constructed. Then, with a bit of spit starting on your mouth you’d begin to hurl making bombing noises and dancing your eyes shining hysterically. I’d scream for Mum to come stop you but she with her dusty apron and hair in a bun tired from polishing floors or scouring the oven could only muster a shrill, “Stop that!” before returning to her Watkins cleaning products. You’d smirk and circle slowly while crushing my teddy, I’d slink to the corner and watch until, bored, you’d turn to me and say, “better clean up your mess” before walking away to find our mother quietly rifling through recipes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ written in a "one-off" flow of recollection, April 11, 2011 ~Soulfire~