We lounge on the bed, the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan fueling our indifference to ambition.
Elephant steps out of the bathroom, pantless yet unconcerned.
Toilet paper is divided into two parts
He precisely pries the two ply plys, then proudly prizes the pried paired plys for our proud prying eyes.
I acknowledge his accomplishment with an understated nod. It’s the little things, when you’re six.
Heck, it’s the little things when you’re a grownup.
Like ceiling fans. And alliteration.
Did you wipe?
Was it a healthy one or a bit runny?
We’ve been passing around yucky tummies this week, the question is timely and urgent. His reply is perfect.
Not runny, just a little chicken nugget