Emily Rae Robles

the paradoxymoron

Five Years Old (Flash Fiction: Day 14)

Prompt: The color yellow

It was his Birthday with a capital B.  He had just learned about capital letters.  It was hard to keep them all straight, but B was easy because it was at the beginning.  Birthdays didn’t happen very often.  He couldn’t remember his last one, although sometimes Mommy and Daddy and his older brother and sister talked about it.  His last birthday had been about Balls.  That started with a B too.  He had had those extra-bouncy Superballs on his cake.  He wished he could remember more, because he really liked Superballs.  But this year was about Yellow.  His entire party was going to be Yellow.  He had yellow balloons, a yellow cake, and was wearing his favorite yellow polo shirt.  Everything was bright and happy like sunshine.

The only thing that bothered him was that his baby sister kept crying.  It wasn’t right that anyone should be crying on a day that was supposed to be happy.  He tried to cheer her up by showing her the yellow balloons, but she only tried to bite him.  He didn’t care about the biting because she didn’t have any teeth, but he was sad that she couldn’t be happy.

While Mommy vacuumed the house, he sat patiently in chair decorated with yellow streamers and watched the clock.  Telling time still confused him, but Daddy had told him that his friends would start coming when the big hand hit 12.  He was excited to see his friends.  They would be excited too, because they would get to eat cake and play games.  It had only rained a little bit that morning, so maybe they could play Cops and Robbers among the damp trees.

He watched cars go past the window, but his vision was interrupted by as smudge.  The window was dirty.  He hopped down from his perch and went to get the Windex.  While he mopped up the offending patch, his baby sister crawled up and put her chubby palm on the glass, chuckling with glee.

“No!” he cried, without thinking.  His sister’s toothless grin immediately froze and she whimpered, ready to belt out her complaints.

“Oh,” he said, realizing that this was the first time she had smiled in an hour or so.  ”Oh no.  Stay happy.” Talking wasn’t very fun; usually his brother was around to translate for him, so words weren’t necessary.  But his brother was upstairs reading, so it was up to him to calm the crying baby.  He sat down and talked nonsense syllables at her, words that didn’t need to be words, until she calmed down and smiled at him again.

“Good baby,” he said, smiling back.  He looked up at the clock again.  The big hand was almost at the 12! He heard a knock at the door and saw Mommy walk over to answer it and talk grown-up talk with his friends’ mommies.  He looked at his baby sister and tickled her under her chin.  She laughed.  He laughed back.  All was right with the world.

 

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February 5, 2011 - Posted by | flash fiction, stories, writings | , , , , ,

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