Read My Face

Last week, I shared an old story about Elder. Today, I thought I’d give you a glimpse of Younger at the age of four…

The other day, Younger had pushed every button I had to push, jumped on every nerve I had on which for him to jump. So, I started threatening him with his life. Actually, it was probably Nintendo. I can’t actually remember my exact words. But I remember I threatened him and expected immediate obedience. But instead…

“Say that again,” Younger, who had been standing behind me during my tirade, demanded.

Jaw locking, I glared down at him as he rounded me, his little blonde head tilted backwards so that he looked up at me. “Why?”

“Because I need to see which face you used.”

Apparently, the my-brain-is-going-to-explode-any-second-and-wrath-will-rain-upon-your-head expression meant something to him and he scampered to his room.

I think, for the next eighteen years or so, the most recognizable arrangement of my features will express one desperate plea.

Help me.

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