You never let me enjoy my teenage life. I have to watch the youngest. Oldest is in the military. I’m stuck here taking on the role of oldest. I can’t do it all on my own. I’m still a child. I’m still a teenager. I want to have fun to. Why is it different with the oldest. Is because I’m a girl. Can teenage girls not have fun too? Being the middle child sucks. Everyone is paying attention to the youngest. What about me? Is it like I’m in a mirror wishing I was getting attention. I do stupid stuff to get you attention. The oldest is the golden child. Youngest is the favorite. What about the middle child. It’s like I’m not existed in your world. You say you love me. But you brush me aside. You expect me to be perfect like the oldest. One bad move I’m in trouble. If the youngest does something bad I’m to blame for. The family say they love me but gets the youngest a 100$ tablet. And I get a box of chocolates. How is that fair. How can bring the middle child be fair. Sometimes I wish that I could just escape my family. My best-friends mom treats me better than my own parents. When it came down to getting me to learn how to drive. My parents didn’t want to teach me. My parents were too “busy”. My parents could “handle” me driving. I had to wait a whole 2 years to learn how to drive because my parents didn’t want to teach me so instead I called up a driving school. And ya know what I passed with flying colors. No thanks to my parents. Before my younger sibling came into my life it was all civil nothing was expected for me. Being the middle child sucks. It’s a pain. It hurts. Not having the same treatment as the others.

This is my friend His name is Googalooga He’s invisible to you But I can see him! He has 4 arms And 1 eye And he’s taller than daddy Ok…that’s a lie.

But he’s real, he is! He’s 5 just like me? He sings and dances And he has rainbow teeth.

He lives in the ground But not in the dirt And he’s 1,000 years old But he’s also 5.

He flies, and breathes in the water He talk in a language called Doooooop He ride a dragon to school And has a robot named boop.

Mommy, daddy, wanna meet him?

“Miss, why’s that every time we ask you what the time is you say, it’s time to get a watch?”

“It’s so you all understand that sometimes you’ll need to learn these things without the aide of others and other things”

“But Miss, you look at your phone and then tell us”

Teaching got me messed up 😅

This little bundle of energy barreled into the living room with excitement as she tried to tell me something. I watched as her arms and legs moved as her speech came out pushed together with gibberish. Confusion clearly written on my face while she continued on with passion.

“I’m sorry baby, I just don’t know.”

I spoke through laughter as she tried. Her frustration grew more and more as she repeated the same sentence. I knew she was trying to say, to convey what she wanted, but her toddler speech was so hard to understand sometimes.

“Sweetie, just slow down… mommy is trying to hear you.”

The tears welled up in her little eyes as I still was not receiving what she was laying down. She started patting her leg, so I thought maybe she hurt it, but when I went to check she screamed in frustration.

“Why don’t you show mommy?”

She calmed down and took my hand pulling me into the bathroom, now I was even more confused. What could she want in here. She pointed up at the shelf that had a million things on it. I went to grab each item and each time she protested loudly. My brain becoming more scattered as I desperately tried to understand this little human.

Finally my hand grabbed the hair brush and she started jumping with joy, a large smile spread across her face. I went to hand it too her and she practically snatched out of my hand and ran back to the living-room where the grunting started again.

“What now love?”

I asked as I walked in. She was patting the floor beside her with new found fervor. I stood there and she grunted, then I sat. These new forms of communication were really difficult to figure out at first, but once I sat she rejoiced! She stood and immediately started “brushing” my hair.

I could feel more knots with each stroke, but the joy in her little voice was worth every cringe of pain. She is my everything after all. When she finished I understood one word

“Utiful mommy.”

Beautiful, I loved this little girl. My head ached for more than one reason, but to see her light up as she sees her “masterpiece” is more than enough. That being said I got up and went to find Tylenol. Toddler smiles, coffee, and Tylenol is every mother’s tools to get through the day.

Her frustration grew more and more as she repeated the same sentence. I knew she was trying to say, to convey what she wanted, but her toddler speech was so hard to understand sometimes.

“Sweetie, just slow down… mommy is trying to hear you.”

The tears welled up in her little eyes as I still was not receiving what she was laying down. She started patting her leg, so I thought maybe she hurt it, but when I went to check she screamed in frustration.

“Why don’t you show mommy?”

She calmed down and took my hand pulling me into the bathroom, now I was even more confused. What could she want in here. She pointed up at the shelf that had a million things on it. I went to grab each item and each time she protested loudly. My brain becoming more scattered as I desperately tried to understand this little human.

Finally my hand grabbed the hair brush and she started jumping with joy, a large smile spread across her face. I went to hand it too her and she practically snatched out of my hand and ran back to the living-room where the grunting started again.

“What now love?”

I asked as I walked in. She was patting the floor beside her with new found fervor. I stood there and she grunted, then I sat. These new forms of communication were really difficult to figure out at first, but once I sat she rejoiced! She stood and immediately started “brushing” my hair.

I could feel more knots with each stroke, but the joy in her little voice was worth every cringe of pain. She is my everything after all. When she finished I understood one word

“Utiful mommy.”

Beautiful, I loved this little girl. My head ached for more than one reason, but to see her light up as she sees her “masterpiece” is more than enough. That being said I got up and went to find Tylenol. Toddler smiles, coffee, and Tylenol is every mother’s tools to get through the day.

Kelly wandered into the house thinking of all the homework she had to do. She saw her six-year-old sister playing with green nickelodeon slime as usual. She loved that messy watery stuff. Don’t get that stuff everywhere. She warned. The six-year-old had it all over her hands but she said she would be careful. The older child was also really worried about her phone bill. Suddenly the six-year-old said that since money was green and slime was also green and since she had a lot of slime she could convert that into money so it would be slime money and her sister could use it to pay for her phone bill. At first Kelly did not understand the logic but then again the little one was only six.

Mr & Mrs Forest had put the kids to bed after a long night of frolicking around with their 1 year old son, Rory. They made sure to ware him out profusely so they could enjoy an intimate night together as planned long in advance.

Once his head had sank into the cosy toddler bed the couple rushed around to ensure everything in the house was done; pots were washed, the floor was swept & mopped, carpet & rug hoovered, everything was taken care of. The bath was boiled soothingly, delicate role petals scattered on the mellow water leading to their silky bed sheets. The couple excitably le-

‘Creak’

Their bedroom door opened. It was Rory, appearing sleepy and distressed.

“What’s up baby?” His mum called.

What followed was the most profoundly confident nonsense that had ever been uttered by a person.

Rory answer, much to his parents confusion.

“Say again?” His dad asked, endeared in his sons statement.

Rory repeated his word.

“Are you hungry? Are you poorly?” His mothered questioned. Her ponders were answered by Rory shaking his head in dismissal. She was naturally concerned, as any mother would be. However Mrs Forest made sure not to show this to Rory with her behaviour.

Dad moved cautiously to his weary son for a closer examination.

“Are you tired?”

Again, Rory repeated the same inaudible nonsense as before. It was like seeing a chimp try to communicate with two rodents.

“Well Christ I don’t know…” Mr Forest uttered under his breath.

“Well we need to keep thinking. He clearly wants SOMETHING.”

Mrs Forest reached for her darling child when a vile stench raided her nostrils. It as if an amalgamation of corpses, faeces & rotten food had ruthlessly infested her nasal canals.

“Christ, Michael. You were right next to him how if you not smell his nappy?!” Mrs Forest interrogated. Enraged with firm blame and a sharp, content relief.

Mr Forest ignored his wife & instead asked his son one final question: “Have you done a poopoo Rory?”

Rorys face lit with excitement & alleviation - it was as if he was in expectance of a celebration. Perhaps he was. Rory welcomed their understanding with a cheery nod in both their directions.

He had indeed done a poopoo in his nappy.

The End.

“Mama, why does the moon go up at night?” The queen sighed, preparing herself for another long explanation. Despite how she loved her starlight, her questions could easily wear her down. “Well, you see, starlight, the moon is enjoying his night.” She began the story that she had been told as a child so long ago. “The moon is dancing, and if he cannot move, he cannot dance.” “What about the man?” “Which man?” “The one at the party. He never moves, but everyone says he dances.” She wracked her head for anything that sounded familiar. “They’re not very nice to him, mama.” “You mean the ball, starlight?” She pushed a curl behind her ear. “When did you see him?” “Yesterday. Miss Berry came with me and Winston to the bakery.” Her gaze settled on said stuffed toy before looking up again. “I like him. He bought me a tart when we saw him.” “That was, um, very nice of him.” Why had she not been told about this? At least by her councilors, she was updated on the court’s happenings. “Do you remember what he looks like?” “He’s tall, like Daddy.” She had only seen a few pictures of him. Since his death, she had tried her best to stay strong for them, and that usually meant avoiding reminders of him. “Grandmere told me he likes you very much. He has the tall horse, I think.” So, one of the suitors her mother had brought her, then. The tallest of the two both had large horses, and between Lord Kingsley and Lord Penrose, there was not much that she could ask to clarify. She had to pray it was not Penrose. With his odd ‘collections’ he had mentioned lately, she would rather not have her daughter be entangled with him. “What color is the horse, dear?” “Black. With little white socks.” She giggled. “He told me she likes flowers in her hair at the festivals.” Ah. So, Kingsley. Despite all her caution, she could not help but smiling softly. She remembered the very night she had spoke of. “Yes, darling. He is quite like the moon.” She murmured. “Perhaps we could invite him over for dinner sometime, so he is a little less lonely. “What do you think?” “Yes, please!”

“Oh, where could it be”, Rachel muttered, rifling through her handbag for the missing item. She found old receipts, chocolate bar wrappers, and loose breath mints at the bottom of the bag, but it seemed that the little blue coin purse she was looking for had disappeared.

“Hang on a sec!”, Rachel yelled, hoping that the pizza delivery guy at the front door wasn’t growing too impatient. It wasn’t that she didn’t have money to pay for the pizza, she had some bills left in her wallet, but she was trying avoid using those just yet. The little coin purse had about $30 worth of coins and she wanted to use that up instead of getting into the bigger bills.

Finally, with a sigh, she temporarily abandoned her search, deciding that the delivery guy had been waiting way too long for her now.

Rachel quickly grabbed a $20 bill and paid for the pizza, letting the young boy know that he could keep the change. It was kind of a shitty tip, but she didn’t have anything else on her right now and the bills in her wallet were too big to be used for tips.

She set the pizza down on the table- double cheese with half of it covered in mushrooms- and resumed her search. After about five more minutes she gave up for a while, deciding that the pizza would get too cold if they didn’t eat it right now.

“Camper! Suppers here!”, she screamed, waiting for her son to come running downstairs from his bedroom. It was the third night in a row that they had to have take out for supper, but with her work schedule and her visits to the hospital, Rachel found it difficult to have food on the table before Campers bedtime.

Finally, she heard scuffling and was surprised to see him enter through the glass sliding door that led to their tiny backyard; the backyard was another thing that Rachel wanted to spruce up the when she someday had the money and time. It wouldn’t be any time soon though, both those things were a rarity nowadays.

Camper came sprinting into the room, messy brown curls bouncing as he moved and bare feet tracking sand into the kitchen. His eyes, green like his late fathers, were bright with excitement.

“YESSSS PIZZA”, he yelled, fist pumping and running to the box on the counter. Rachel smiled, glad he wasn’t tired of the regular meal just yet.

She watched him chomp down the pizza, cheese running down his chin and his dirty fingers slick with grease. His fingernails were still caked in dirt from being outside and she probably should’ve told him to wash his hands first, but her mind was still on the missing coin purse. Rachel was a single parent and with her mother in the hospital and the extra expenses, every penny counted.

“Hey, Camp, have you seen my coin purse anywhere?”, Rachel asked, when he finally took a break from inhaling his pizza.

Camper frowned, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“The blue one?”

“Yes”

“With the seagulls on it?”

“Yes, Camp”

“And the little tea stain on the corner?”

“Yep, that exact one”, Rachel answered, growing impatient with the questions.

“Then yes I’ve seen it”, Camper chirped, a proud grin on his face.

Rachel perked, curiosity piquing her interest.

“Where did you see it?”, she asked, grabbing him a tissue to wipe his hands with. He dabbed at his face instead, smearing tomato sauce in the process. Rachel sighed and grabbed another sheet. Cradling his head in her hands, she gently cleaned his chin.

“I took it”

Rachel paused, pulling away and squinting at him.

“What? You took it? Why?”, Rachel blubbered, confusion rendering her near speechless. If Camper needed anything paid for he’d ask her, right?

“In the backyard. We have to wait for a bit though”, Camper said nonchalantly, as though it were the most normal statement in the world.

“Why is it in the backyard, Camp. What are you waiting for?”, Rachel asked, more confused than ever. Sometimes she forgot that Camper was only six years old, a fact that was made startlingly apparent during conversations such as this one.

“Well, Mrs Wallace said that when you grow a seed it turns into a big tree with lots of fruit”, Camper explained, clasping his little hands as he spoke.

“Okay, and? What does that have to do with my coin purse?”, Rachel questioned.

“Coins are money seeds”

Rachel considered his words, her anger softening as she understood.

“Honey, that’s not how it works”, Rachel said softly, rubbing a thumb across his cheek.

“When we have a money tree you can grow more money and then we’ll have enough to buy grandma flowers!”, Camper said excitedly, shooting her a lopsided grin.

Rachel smiled sadly as she took in his childish naivety. Last week after they had visited Rachel’s mother in the hospital, Camper and her had gone to the hospital gift shop. While they were there Camper had seen a pretty bouquet of yellow sunflowers, Rachel’s mothers favourite. At the time, the $30 price tag on the flowers was far too steep and Rachel had to tell him they couldn’t afford it. Even though Camper took it quite well, she could tell he was upset about it.

Rachel was quiet for a while, unsure of what to say. Her heart burst with love at the thought of Camper being so kindhearted, but at the same time she felt sad that he had to worry about money issues at such a young age.

Rachel stroked his head softly, smoothing the unruly curls beneath her palm.

“My sweet, sweet, Camper”, Rachel cooed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Mom, don’t worry, someday we’ll have a money garden and we can buy every single flower in the store! Grandma would love that, wouldn’t she?!”

Her mom never understood why she wanted to be a writer. All of Amber’s life she wrote about different aspects of her life. Her mom never allowed her to write expect when she had homework her mom came and collected her writing notebooks at night and did not get it back until the next day being sneaky was not her move at all.