Wound Tight

It’s Saturday morning. The house is quiet, my daughter laying peacefully on our bed giggling at Uncle Joey on Full House. My son stumbles into the room, already giving orders, setting limitations on viewing time. He hasn’t even been up five minutes and he’s got all guns blazing.
I have an epiphany: he will never be permitted to have coffee- he’s wound way too tight. I text my friend. She texts back “I would never give him any either- ever”.
I decide even if he’s thirty and comes over to my house, before I give him a cup of coffee I’ll make him sign a release form.

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