Post by snap on Nov 11, 2015 21:39:18 GMT 5
“Ama! See I got captain badge.” Gor was insistent to consecrate his hallow serve.
“Yes! I see my child.”, ecstatic ripples gauged with reserve, she pois’dly brought him his day’s lunch. “Go change. Ore yu shall corrupt tat uniform wit’ stain.”
A little haul’d to watch tv a little while was his plan, but guess Mum’s mum. “Yes, mother”, he rail’d to his room with sulking brood.
He returned readily, occupying that little stool next to his tv.
“Ay! tut. Comb that mope”, she apprehensively called his boy.
“Mom!”
“Yes?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh! I forgot the stove.”, and she presently rushed to the kitchen.
“And eat. ‘Fore it gets gobbl’d cold.”, she cried from the kitchen.
And he was engrossed in the cartoon show. Too revered in dainty eyes for the super hero..
Meanwhile she with shriveled hands set his uniform back to sire.. ranged in cupboard wit’ shield as may s’lect n’t chance of any dirt to vat stands in middle… beseech’d amid old books, bags, and her attires. She believes his best in glaze. Distinguished. Capital.
Then she clasp the bag by its ears “Ay, vat dirt strays o’it!” She jack’d the books out array’d keenly, then struggled with little dusty spots that besmear the sheen black. She knew chadar wud riggle off those spots clean. Then unknot’d the string. She smiled “Vell, kids t’ese dais”.
Saunder’d among his books, she befit herself and be’an perusal ov his copies. “The class-work is sinly bored..”, nostalgia be’an to ripple her.., as she recall’d her boy’s communion. And aught in discovery shat I tell yu, …
“What’s sinly?” she frowned.
“Ah! sir’s seys so. He often sys ‘..sinly yu art right. But yu are wrong.’ ”
I could nut help, but test the fallacy. But momentarily, all I could haul was.. “Ah! tat’s awful..”
“Why mother ?”
“Oh, my boy. Sin means you commit a horrible error ….; tat shat ask for God’s reparation if yu pray forgiveness.. else penance shat come thru.”
“Oh.”, he swarm’d in threat, but tried for clear steer.. “T’en, why mother, by sinly yu shat be riet?”
“Dear Gor! yu mu’t hav’ h’ard ‘im wrong”, she boxed his ears .
“Oh..”
Fuzzy memories al’ays grow on fuzzy brows. ‘Tis loops oft to lost ones too. “Hey, fuzzy brow! how was the day? ”..and wit’ tat tinkles dampness in iys.
Presently, returning frum mem’ry circle.. she mark’d out errors to be haul’d to reparation … and there came the boy dunking in her mother’s lap, “Mom! b’y me a spider-man mask at’is pay day”, he plead’d as he play’d with his toes.
“Yes of co’rse, if yu shat score gud in week’s test.”, conceded the mother.
“Ta’s condition. .. O’ght n’t parents to luve un-condit’onal ? ”
“Ay, cunning kid.”
...
“Yes! I see my child.”, ecstatic ripples gauged with reserve, she pois’dly brought him his day’s lunch. “Go change. Ore yu shall corrupt tat uniform wit’ stain.”
A little haul’d to watch tv a little while was his plan, but guess Mum’s mum. “Yes, mother”, he rail’d to his room with sulking brood.
He returned readily, occupying that little stool next to his tv.
“Ay! tut. Comb that mope”, she apprehensively called his boy.
“Mom!”
“Yes?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh! I forgot the stove.”, and she presently rushed to the kitchen.
“And eat. ‘Fore it gets gobbl’d cold.”, she cried from the kitchen.
And he was engrossed in the cartoon show. Too revered in dainty eyes for the super hero..
Meanwhile she with shriveled hands set his uniform back to sire.. ranged in cupboard wit’ shield as may s’lect n’t chance of any dirt to vat stands in middle… beseech’d amid old books, bags, and her attires. She believes his best in glaze. Distinguished. Capital.
Then she clasp the bag by its ears “Ay, vat dirt strays o’it!” She jack’d the books out array’d keenly, then struggled with little dusty spots that besmear the sheen black. She knew chadar wud riggle off those spots clean. Then unknot’d the string. She smiled “Vell, kids t’ese dais”.
Saunder’d among his books, she befit herself and be’an perusal ov his copies. “The class-work is sinly bored..”, nostalgia be’an to ripple her.., as she recall’d her boy’s communion. And aught in discovery shat I tell yu, …
“What’s sinly?” she frowned.
“Ah! sir’s seys so. He often sys ‘..sinly yu art right. But yu are wrong.’ ”
I could nut help, but test the fallacy. But momentarily, all I could haul was.. “Ah! tat’s awful..”
“Why mother ?”
“Oh, my boy. Sin means you commit a horrible error ….; tat shat ask for God’s reparation if yu pray forgiveness.. else penance shat come thru.”
“Oh.”, he swarm’d in threat, but tried for clear steer.. “T’en, why mother, by sinly yu shat be riet?”
“Dear Gor! yu mu’t hav’ h’ard ‘im wrong”, she boxed his ears .
“Oh..”
Fuzzy memories al’ays grow on fuzzy brows. ‘Tis loops oft to lost ones too. “Hey, fuzzy brow! how was the day? ”..and wit’ tat tinkles dampness in iys.
Presently, returning frum mem’ry circle.. she mark’d out errors to be haul’d to reparation … and there came the boy dunking in her mother’s lap, “Mom! b’y me a spider-man mask at’is pay day”, he plead’d as he play’d with his toes.
“Yes of co’rse, if yu shat score gud in week’s test.”, conceded the mother.
“Ta’s condition. .. O’ght n’t parents to luve un-condit’onal ? ”
“Ay, cunning kid.”
...