May 28, 2011
Seven minutes before my class started,
I got a phone call.
“She needs to tell you something,”
said my sister.
Mommy? Earlier when I was so mad?
And I said those mean things?
Like idiot and I hate you?
When you were in the bathroom I hided
your favorite book and your shoes under the couch,
and I wanted you to know where they are in case
you wanted them and I feel bad and I don’t want
you to be sad and I hoped I wouldn’t forget where I put them.
Thank heaven for The Auntie.
Apparently The Child confided her wicked deed
and said sorrowfully,
I feel so bad about it.
But I know Mommy will understand my feelings.