“Who ate it all? My one treat at the end of the day. You know it’s mine. Why did you eat it?” The vortex of anguish was accompanied by the freezer door opening and closing, opening and closing as I looked inside again and again in disbelief. Anguish escalated to anger. I’ve got a sugar-coated monkey on my back.
The kids know the signs – slightly jerky movements, the voice edging an octave higher, words tumbling out too fast. She’s gonna blow! They retreat from the kitchen, seeking safety behind the dining room table. And they watch. Continue reading
redosue 
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