Boundaries

This was a story my parents told frequently

It always completely cracked them up

My father ate wheaties and black coffee

At two that sounded really good to me

But my breakfast was already on the plastic table

Attached to the special seat for me

“Weesies!  Weesies! Weesies!”  I cried

My mother filled a bowl with wheaties and milk

Brought it to me in my high chair

And put it on my head

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Author: skaplanolmsted

I am a writer, artist and servant to feline overlords, living in Portland, Oregon with my writer artist husband Marc Olmsted.

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