Called

 

The tiny voice from the kitchen called me, increasingly insistent. I tried to block it out and continue with my work. Now, where was I… This website was a mess and would require all my concentration to trouble shoot and fix it. Move this here. Shorten that bit of copy. Replace this photo. Add this alt tag. Much better.

I sat back in my chair to survey my work, satisfaction blossoming at the improvements made already and shining back at my from my computer screen. I stretched and smiled. Time for a break.

I carried my glass to the sink to get a drink of water, and there it was again. A lilliputian siren song coming from the end of the counter. Without thinking I moved toward it, first one step, then another, and soon I was overcome, resistance erased.

As I dipped my hand into the jar and peeled the wrapper back, revealing the enticing chocolate, I reminded myself that I would eat better tomorrow.

Frightening Feast

 

The beastly feast was filled with frights,

 

fangs and claws and flickering lights.

 

Table manners went unobserved;

 

grunts, farts and loud burps were heard.

 

Food was gobbled, slurped and chawed.

 

Drinks were spilled. Bones were gnawed.

 

The room was left in quite a state

 

when we realized the time was late.

 

We sliced the cake and passed it 'round

 

then at the door, a pound, pound, pound!

 

I hurried to the entryway

 

thrilled this was the end of day.

 

Our guests flowed in my wake

 

their hunger and thirst now fully slaked.

 

I sent them home with daddies and mammas

 

and put my little beast in his pajamas.

 

Another birthday. Another year.

 

My baby's growing up, I fear.

 

Next year we'll do something less frightening,

 

like riding tigers or bull fighting.