123458

Ethan is 4 years old and stands 42 inches in height (perfect size for the McDonald’s play-place). He stares down at me with his gleaming round golf ball shaped eyes, waiting for a reaction. Watching me with his mahogany colored pupils he shouts, “I want cereal,” in his usual excessively loud, high pitched voice. He repeats himself again; he thinks the more he repeats himself the faster he will get things. Ethan is a bright child. I am unable

As I pour the cereal, I listen to the consistent stomping of two feet carrying 38 1/2 pounds of pure muscle. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP. I tell him to stop running and cause a collision between him and the floor. I do not know how but when he falls it is somehow always my fault. He sits, reminds me that I forgot the spoon, and repeats himself, just like always. I grab a spoon and the problem is resolved. He holds the spoon in his right hand like a shovel and digs into his Cheerios as if it were dirt. The tiny fingers on his left hand steadies the cereal bowl and keeps it in place. The house is quiet, but only for a couple of minutes. The sudden crashing of plastic Spiderman dishes informs me he is finished and ready to dress.

to answer because I become the human trampoline within a matter of seconds. His tiny feet feel like sharp little punches poking into my legs as he jumps. The pain continues for ab

Some topics in this essay:
Writing Ethan, THUMP THUMP, T-shirt Unlike, Nut Cheerios, thump thump, thump thump thump,