First impression on seeing this photo of the young child’s boots was “I’m outta here.” It may have been my mood at the moment, but that’s the way this week’s story is going to go, too. Outta here.
Word count: 100
I’m Outta Here
You can’t fence me in. All your childproofing and safety latches don’t mean a thing to me. I am Houdini reborn, a rebel in pull-ups. I can crawl, I can climb, I’m aiming to run soon. I am your worst nightmare.
Stay young a while longer, little one. The world can be a big, scary place. You don’t need to rush it. Let me protect you, love you, keep you. Don’t leave me just yet – stay close.
What do you know, old woman? You’re afraid of your own shadow. I’m not afraid of nothin’. Give me my boots. I’m outta here.
© Erin Leary
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