This was absolutely the last time he would ever lock her out again. It was double jeopardy time for the little man.
Going outside without permission was his first strike, but locking his mother out of the house when she made him come in was the last straw. A purple vein ran down her forehead, throbbing with such intensity that it looked as if it were going to explode. Red flashed before her eyes, as she felt the rage bubble up like gas in her chest. Bam! Bam! Bam! Her fist screamed at the door. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Click. Blue splotches, as if she’d looked into the sun too long, blurred her path as she stormed after her son.
Wise beyond his years, he had retreated to a corner when she came through the door. He ran to her bedroom. He turned the television on.
Perhaps if he acted nonchalant, the whole thing didn’t happen and she would love on him instead.
He was wrong.
I hope you enjoyed this little not-quite-fiction tale. It is inspired by my son, who did indeed lock me out this afternoon. Have a laugh at my expense, then leave me some concrit.