They were gray. Both of them. And it’d only taken twenty minutes at the park.
So with half glances into the rear view mirror, I gave my kids the low down.
“When we get home,” I said, “we’ll wash our hands before we eat…
we’ll wash ’em before we fiddle with stuff upstairs…
and before we drag our fingers across the walls
and before we play the piano.”
I put my explaining hand back on the wheel. I couldn’t think of anything else.
The van was quiet. For almost two miles.
And then my son peeped, “and before we pick our nose.”