the other morning devan walked up to my side of the bed,
said her good mornings,
gave her kisses,
did whatever else she had to do,
and walked towards the door.
two steps before she exited,
she stopped, paused, turned to my bed and wondered aloud,
"how come i'm not tripping all over stuff, mom?"
listen, kid, maybe i decided to clean my room
before the end of the year.
do you have to make such a big deal out of it?
besides, have you seen your room lately?