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"And don't give me any of that bonding crap!"
The two boys exchanged wide-eyed looks. Mom...using the C word?
"Be quiet!" she snapped. "Do you know how much one of these costs? Well, do you?"
"More than both your allowances for a year."
"I'm keeping the baseball until after church on Sunday. And neither of you is going to the game on Saturday."
"But, Mom!" they wailed in concert.
"And don't give me any of that 'But, Mom' crap either!"
The C word *again*! The boys shuffled their feet nervously.
"Whose idea was it to play catch in the house?" she continued.
They shrugged uncomfortably. She sighed.
"All right. Sam, get the potting soil and reset the plant you knocked over."
"Jimmy fell on the plant--" the older boy started.
"I don't care! Just fix it. Jimmy, get me the craft glue."
The younger boy smiled winningly, displaying the gap where the last of his baby teeth had been until three days ago.
"Don't you mean that bonding cr--"
"Shut up, idiot!" Sam growled as he dragged his brother from the room. "Why don't you learn how to catch?"
"Why don't you learn how to throw?"
"Why don't you both just do as you're told?" she shouted after them.
Winona Kirk shook her head in exasperation and picked up the shattered pieces of her favorite hummel. Two little boys huddled cozily under an umbrella. Carefully cradling their tiny ceramic heads in her hand, she realized that the late Beatrice Hummel had no idea of what two boys actually did on a rainy day.
That InstaBond better work as well as it was supposed to. Or she was going to use much worse than the C word. Remembering the shocked looks on her sons' faces, she couldn't help smiling. She wondered what would happen if she moved further down the alphabet.
"All right, stop all this shit," she whispered experimentally.
Hmmm. With a little more oomph, it might eliminate the belching contests at dinner.
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