Today’s writing prompt and my response.
She hadn’t meant to scare the child
The mother had led the crying child from the café, glaring at us, muttering unseasonal comments about our futures. I couldn’t blame her. I raised my eyebrows at my teenage daughter.
‘Sometimes kids need to learn the truth.’ She leaned over the café table, earnest written all over her beautiful face.
‘Hmm.’ I kind of agreed with this, but it depended.
‘What do you mean, Hmm?’
‘I mean …’ Why are daughters so serious about life at this age? Why do girls feel the need to take on the world’s problems? I started again. ‘There are appropriate times for this-’
‘You can’t pussyfoot around the truth, Mum.’ She leaned back, arms crossed, scowling. ‘You kept it from me, and I suffered for it!’
Ah. That’s what’s at the bottom of this. She suffered, therefore others must also.
‘I was only doing what I thought best for you-’
‘Humph! Working my backside off being good all year!! And now you expect me not to tell the brat the truth?’
‘The truth?’
‘Yes! That the mythical Santa will visit them whatever. That it’s nothing to do with being good or bad, like deliberately spilling the sugar all over the floor because you feel like it.’
‘Well, yes, but perhaps it was the way you said it –’
‘They wouldn’t have believed me otherwise.’
‘Well it was a bit scary.’ I grimaced, trying to hide my smile. ‘Transforming into Santa himself while doing it. You have to learn to control your powers, I’ve told you time and again.’
She laughed. ‘I didn’t meant to scare the child, really Mum.’
Hmm.
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