Fear of Heights
Raylene dropped her purse and keys in the chair by the door. Her six-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Stevie, and her just-turned-five-year-old son, Wonder, came bounding up the steps into the mobile home behind her, trying to tear each other apart.
“No, I get the first snack,” Stevie yelled.
“No, I do,” Wonder yelled back.
“Ow! you pulled my hair! I’m telling. Mom, Wonder pulled my hair and it really hurt!” She rubbed the offended part of her scalp, then she stomped on his foot.
Wonder let out an amazing shriek. “Mom! Stevie stepped on my foot!”
Raylene took a deep breath and shut the door. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop it right now! Both of you. No snacks for anyone. Both of you get to your rooms while I get dinner done. Now.”
“But, Mom,” they both whined in unison.
“Get!” She pointed toward the hallway and twitched her head in the same direction. Sister and brother looked at each other with unabashed hatred in their eyes, then plodded off to their rooms.