Category: Jack
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I found Jack crouched behind the laundry basket like a tiny predator in mismatched socks. His eyes locked onto Pookie’s dish—half full, undeniably pungent, and radiating the quiet energy of “DO NOT TOUCH” reserved for outlet covers and mystery substances found beneath the couch. And yet, there he was. My son. My bright, bold, bizarre…
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It’s cold. Like nose-hurts-when-you-breathe cold. Like “Mom made me wear long underwear” cold. But I don’t care. Because it’s Friday. Football Friday. And I’m at the Oak Harbor High School game with Dad. He’s wearing his big coat—the one that makes him look like a sleeping bag with arms—and he keeps saying stuff like, “This…
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It started with Mom yelling, “ITTTT’SSSS TIIIIIMMMMEEEE!” like she was about to enter a wrestling ring, but instead of body slams, she was hauling up bins of glitter and tangled lights from the basement. Dad sighed. The kind of sigh that sounds like it’s been waiting all year. “Already?” he said. “It’s not even Thanksgiving.”…
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Operation: Apple Heist was a go.Jack Jack left his Pop-Tart unattended — a rookie move in this snack jungle. I struck fast, like a sugar-fueled raccoon with nothing to lose. I snatched the Apple Jacks Pop-Tart and booked it to the living room, feet slapping the floor like a toddler drumline. I launched myself onto…
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I counted it. I definitely counted it.Three Reese’s. Four Kit Kats. One full-size Snickers that I got from the dentist’s house (ironic).A mountain of Smarties. A suspicious number of Tootsie Rolls.And the crown jewel: one blue raspberry Airhead, folded like treasure. I put it in the pumpkin bag. I put the bag in my closet.…
