Karen heard Stevie, already awake and up, opening kitchen cupboards. If she didn't reach her five-year-old quickly, he would smear the cat with peanut butter and lodge Coco Puffs in her fur.
Karen swept greasy hair into a ponytail, wiggled into leggings and pulled on an oversized sweatshirt that smelled like body odor, another day with no time for a shower. On her way to the kitchen, she stepped into Marian's room, "Breakfast is in thirty minutes; watch the time."
With barely an acknowledging nod, Marian returned to reading Junie B. Jones. Karen's sigh was heavy. It held the weight of the fourteen more reminders it would take before Marian did what someone asked her.
Homeschool was supposed to start at nine but arguments about teeth brushing, a stuffy tug-of-war, and a tantrum about loading dishes in the dishwasher derailed it until half-past ten.
YOU ARE READING
Life Rights, a Fertility Fable
ChickLitPregnancy termination is no more. Life rights for both mothers and their unborn children are preserved--with enforced help.
