It was one of those busy mornings when one struggles to push past things in order to get to work on time.
Arjo, watching me intently, for long, suddenly walked up to me.
“Mamma, it won’t happen again. I promise!” I felt his little fingers around my neck and a tight hug from behind.
“You always say, if it doesn’t matter in five years, don’t spend even five minutes being upset over it.”
Saying this, he put out two slices of bread on the chopping board, cutting out a heart-shaped smiley from one of them.
A proud mother smiled.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers every week. Bloggers post their stories here and everyone ends up reading one another, including Rochelle who visits every post written— a fantastic encouragement for all the writers. If you’re interested, click here to read the amazing variety of narratives and storylines, inspired by the photo prompt.