Category: writing
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It began innocently. A wreath here. A scented pinecone basket there. A twinkle light or twelve strung across the stairwell “just for ambiance.” But slowly, the transformation took hold. My Pinterest board bloated like a snowman on a salt shaker. I stopped saying “no” to glitter-based projects. I found myself whispering to rolls of ribbon…
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Dear Journal,Today began with the usual indignities. I woke in the sunlit throne I allow them to call “the arm of the couch.” From this vantage point, I survey my kingdom — a land littered with crumbs, socks, and questionable decision-making. The humans, my loyal albeit misguided subjects, bustled about performing rituals like “packing lunches”…
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Mom is bouncing. Not like jumping-bouncing. Like excited-bouncing. Like her voice is doing cartwheels and her eyes are sparkly and she keeps saying things like “This is magical” and “You’re going to love it.” She’s holding the remote like it’s a wand. She’s got snacks lined up like a Hogwarts feast—popcorn, juice boxes, and those…
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It was the night before Monday, when all through the home,Not a creature was stirring—except on Mom’s phone.The calendars juggled, the schedules all tight,She whispered her worries alone in the night. The scissors were missing, the glue sticks were gone,Yet she knew their location, like dusk knows the dawn.The backpacks were ready, the lunches all…
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Posted by u/ChaosCuddles (age 3, elbow activist, towel renegade) Okay so here’s the deal. Mom folds towels. Like, a LOT. There’s stacking, fluffing, and this whole ritual where she lines them up like they’re auditioning for a spa commercial. And me?I unfold them.All of them. With flair. With purpose. With the kind of dramatic toss…
