Children grow up

The red Volkswagen Beetle pulled up at the gate. Mary sat reading on the porch, with a black retriever on the floor, his tail curled up and his belly heaving in massive breaths. She didn’t look up at the man who walked towards her.

“Hello Mom,” he paused for her acknowledgement. The dog had lifted his head, curious, but seeing an impassive Mary, remained seated.

“Hello Jason. How’re Carol and the kids?”

“Great! The twins love the new house — plenty of space.” He smiled sitting down next to his mother. “Oh, you got a dog since we moved out. Is it wild?”

“A little,” Mary replied stroking the dog. “But Jerry sure won’t bite the hand that fed him.”

The art of parenting

Sought a son

to achieve high

over and beyond

his age and height

 

hauling him away

forcing, from friends

the mother with hopes

cast him amidst wolves

 

encouraging greatness

discouraging listlessness

she carved a scaredy-cat

out of a sheer underdog.

Proud parents

Julia glowed in quiet pride. She’d nabbed her prize. She held on as if her life depended on it, and strutted along the path with her head high.

Every day her brothers had treated her like a useless lump of meat. They’d gather round at dinner flaunting their treasures while she remained in the shadows crouching, hoping they wouldn’t laugh at her.

Not any more. She growled to herself as she tightened her clutch on the little rabbit. Feeling his heartbeat racing under her paws, she entered their home. Her parents couldn’t believe their youngest chimp had begun hunting already.