Monday mornings

After lifting Leta out of the back seat and handing her her lunch box, I close the door to our car and begin to turn toward the entrance of her school. Out of the corner of my eye I see Chuck hop down into the space behind the front passenger seat to get at the bowl of Cheerios Leta brought with her for the ride, so I turn back to the window of the car, press my index finger menacingly against the glass and start screaming YOU’D BETTER NOT EAT THOSE DAMN CHEERIOS. And when I turn back to grab Leta’s hand I notice a man across the street who is trying to open the door of his car but is having trouble because he’s just witnessed an unkempt woman wearing pajamas in the middle of a parking lot, yelling at an imaginary person about breakfast cereal.