"Thanks." I mumble as I keep a close eye on my four ice-creams. Four! Thy expect me to get four ice-creams while they go and play at the park. I mean, really. Sometimes I want to make my husband get the food, or fetch Aunt Clara from the airport, or... 'Well, maybe I don't mind so much' I think numbly as I survey the situation in front of me. All I can see of John, my little boy is his legs, dangling out of the rubbish bin, the swing still swinging silently. Chloe, my six-year-old is sliding along the muddy ground, head first! You can see the tracks she has made coming off the slide. My husband is lying motionless on the slide. What on earth have they been doing? Well, maybe next time 'll be content with the easy job, getting the food.
[Four Days Later]
"I'll get the ice-creams..."
[Four Days Later]
"I'll get the ice-creams..."