Friday, June 4, 2010


Sailor here.

I almost made it. I almost made it away. Down the street. Where Mom couldn't find me.

Mom put on her yellow apron. It smells different from her green apron. She says she lost her green one.

I thought this meant I wouldn't have a bath. Ever again.

But I was wrong.

Mom put on her yellow apron. I bolted. I didn't go at Zoe speed. I didn't go at Jibby speed. I am eleven and a half. I went at eleven and a half speed.

Even so, I kept in front of Mom. She left the side door open. I trotted past the dog bath and into the front yard. Mom came after me. I trotted onto the sidewalk. Mom threw her apron on the driveway and came for me again. I trotted down the block.

Then I forgot why I was running away from home. I remembered Mom. I remembered chicken thighs. I remembered cheese.

And when Mom called me again, I came running.

But then I remembered.

Too late.


After I was dry and brushed, though, Mom took pictures of me in the front yard. I like having my picture taken.

So it wasn't totally awful.

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