• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 08
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The things parents do…

Their backs hurt. The ground slippery under sartorial but inconvenient shoes. They're not as young as they used to be, but a request is a request. So they wait. Bodies contorted into strange positions. Wait. Wait Wait.

'Bridddggeeeeee,' yells their two-year-old, as she barrels under their makeshift tunnel, laughing as she gets to the other side.

Just as they are about to straighten their aching vertebrae, she yells, 'again again again!' And back they go, contorted, sleep-deprived but happy to be of service.