MY MOTHER SAID:

Wait ‘til your father gets home.

I combed out the cat; he’s horking up hairballs behind the chesterfield.

If you keep making that face, it’ll stay that way.

Don't use that tone with me, young lady.

I wish he wouldn't call me “the wife”.

If you don’t sit up straight, I’ll put sticky tape between your shoulder blades.

I don't know where the time has gone.

Who parked that wad of gum under the counter? Who?

Really. I wonder why I bother.

Your dad’s having a lie-down.

A nice steam pudding, dear, with brown sugar sauce,
don't you think?

I know now, he lacked self-esteem.
But you see, we didn’t have self-esteem
in those days.

Love love love those little quail scuttling across the garden.
Don't let the cat out.

Photo by LCF