“Let’s have a baby,” you said. “It’ll be fun,” you said. “We can still practice witchcraft, nothing will change,” you promised.” Martee ran to the sink with her four-year-old son. Craig stared at his wife in disbelief, frozen with no ideas on how to help.
She abruptly turned towards him while little Randy projectile vomited in his direction. “You know what my favorite part of this is?” Psychotically, she laughed. “Last year, you insisted we make him a Easter basket because you wanted him to be like other children. You grabbed the little blue egg candies from the store shelf, tossed them in the cart, exclaimed how you loved them as a kid and what a magnificent treat it would be for our Randy. I see the boy’s confusion! He didn’t know any better. But you! You are a piece of work!” She yelled at her spouse while splashing water into the toddler’s mouth, trying her best to wash out what was left of the shells and their contents.
“I’m pretty sure he swallowed some.” She gagged then gritted her teeth to keep from cursing.
“Maybe you could call poison control.” Craig slowly rubbed his hand across the top of the kitchen chair, keeping his head down.
“Oh yes, marvelous idea!” Her hand formed an imaginary phone. “Hello, poison control. My four-year-old son just ate some Robin eggs that I’m using in a little……sorcery. Do you think he’ll be okay?” She tossed the child in her husband’s direction.
“They’re eggs, Craig. I would imagine he’ll be fine. Mark my words, I’m going to figure out how to turn you into a frog……You are no prince.” She grabbed her spell book, ran into their bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
The End…. possibly, of it all.
Leesa Writes 
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