All the Horrible Girliness

My shoulders are caked with sand; it's made its way into the cups of my collarbones, too. While I read I scoop and scrape. The playground is a marvelous exfoliant.

Sometimes I find out the names of the other children. The opening line, though, is about age. We ask because we're comparing.

Older boys skateboard over the playground equipment. I'd like to bop them over their heads. One cries, "Let's skate down the slide!" Secretly, I hope he does. One less idiot in the world. Then I remember, boys. Mine will one day consider stupid dangerous things like this, too. Already, everything long and grippable is a sword in his hands. He goes about stabbing and slashing in the living room and around the park like it's his job. And it is.

posted by Samus @ 5:33 PM