The son steps off the school bus. His mother is weeding.
“Hi mom.”
“Got pop tarts today, on the counter.”
The father comes outside.
“Hi son.”
“Hey dad.”
The son goes inside.
“This a weed?”
“Don’t pull that!”
“Guess I’ll stick to getting the mail.”
The son sticks his head out the door.
“There’s only broccoli on the counter!”
“Oops! Thought that’s what pop tarts looked like!”
The door shuts.
“Visa bill came. Letter from the Jordans.”
“Two strikes for the mailbox.”
“How bout this home run – the latest Sports Illustrated.”
“Woohoo.”
A propeller plane flies over.
“Ah, summer.”
I don't know why but this reminds me of "Leopard" by Wells Tower. I think it was in the New Yorker sometime last year.
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