We came around the corner and stood in the doorway of what looked like a paint-testing ground. This was where we proved once and for all that we were good loving parents. We decided to let him live."What is painting doing in my best Tupperware bowl?" I yelled."Well, I needed something lightweight I could carry around with me," he began."You've been carrying around a brain for year," the boy's father said.
Sylvia Harney, Every Time I Go Home I Break Out in Relatives
children, home-disasters, humor, parents, sarcasm