By Wendy Taylor
At last, the baby is asleep down the hall.
I snuggle down under a comforter on the couch. A rare chance to rest.
My husband is taking our girls to the park. Then they arrive: twirling. Flitting. Chasing each other. The air is filled with their raucous sounds.
I groan. Try to bat them away. I can’t fall asleep while being bombarded. Exhausted, I rise and stomp down the hall to the kitchen. They follow me. Dancing and full of energy, these little winged bodies, buzzing around my head.
My husband left the kitchen screen door ajar. Again.
The baby wakes.
Great job!
Interesting! I thought the girls had returned and were doing the chasing, etc. When I reread it, I saw that your language was clear and fair the whole way. A matter of expectations, I guess.
I am a huge fan of throwing a curve ball and giving the reader something different than they expected . Great!