Popcorn

“Mommy?” The whisper exploded in my aching head. I groaned and cracked open an eye. My daughter, still in her pajamas, was standing over me.

“What do you need, sweetie?” I croaked.

“You still sick?” she asked.

I weighed my options. Tell the truth and have her “help” me when my flu-addled body begged to sleep, or lie and have her pester me until I had to drag my sick self out of bed?

Thankfully, there was a third option: Avoidance.

“What do you need, sweetie?” I repeated.

“I'm hungry,” she answered.

I looked at the alarm clock. Well past lunchtime. So much for avoidance.

Every joint in my body creaked as I shuffled into the kitchen. Having been sick for the entire week meant that the pickings were slim. Even my old standby of a peanut butter sandwich was out of the question with no bread anywhere in the house. I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and tried to think.

“There's popcorn,” my daughter suggested with that little bit of hope in her voice.

“Can you make it if I watch?” I groaned as I lowered my head into my arms.

“Please, Mommy,” she said, “I am in second grade.”

She tore open the plastic wrap and read the directions out loud. I heard the microwave open and the beeps as she set the controls.

“Mommy, are you paying attention?” she asked at one point.

“I'm watching you,” I lied.

The smoke alarm jolted me awake a few minutes later.

After the smoldering mess had been cleared, I handed my daughter the phone.

“Life lesson for today,” I said. “You get to learn how to order pizza.”

Word count: 291