Broccoli


Broccoli

Last night’s surreal moment:

Simon has stolen the raw broccoli off my plate. (I assumed he just wanted to eat it.) Both children have left the room, and are now rolling and leaping about the bed, waiting for Daddy to tuck them in. Simon is still clutching his prize. Let the hysterics begin!

Samantha begins, “Simon, I don’t like your celery sale.”

Simon is watching himself in the mirror as he jumps. Without breaking rhythm, he turns around and pelts Samantha with a tiny green tree, “It’s broccoli!”

Samantha retaliates with a sweep of her foot, right as Daddy breaches the door. Simon goes down, and Daddy responds, “Samantha! You did that on purpose. Fix it!”

Samantha heaves a sigh, “Simon, I’m sorry.” Simon has regained his feet, and cheerfully responds, “That’s okay. I okay.” And he tucks his feet up under him, gracefully cannonballing directly on top of his prone sister.

Five minutes later, the broccoli is in the trash, the lights are out, and you’d never know a thing had happened.

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