As Brie asked for waffles, Hillary opened her mouth to politely refuse. But before she could get a word out, Brie sprang into action. She shot her hands forward lightning-quick and plunged both sets of fingers firmly into Hillary's sides, who tried to squirm away but found her back already pressed up against the kitchen counter. There was nowhere to go with Brie relentlessly scritching away.
"Ohoho no no no please stahahahahap!" Hillary begged breathlessly between peals of laughter. She squirmed left and right, writhing against the counter's edge, but for every inch she shifted, Brie's fingers followed expertly; their movements were perfectly syncopated to her squirms. With no way to flee, Hillary could only thrash her head back and forth wildly while cackling at the tops of her lungs.
“Waffles, mom? We’re having waffles, right?” Her youngest daughter insisted.
“Alright alright! Hahahaha I’ll make waffles!” Hillary cried. Brie relented and Hillary stood panting against the kitchen counter, cheeks flushed from her daughter's mischievous attack. "Brie, you little stinker!" she said through giggles.
With a twinkle in her eye, Brie replied, "Thanks mom! You’re the best" Hillary couldn't help but chuckle. How could she stay angry at that face? She watched Brie do a little happy dance.
“But!” Hillary raised a finger, “Only if you help me make them.”
Brie paused mid-dance and then nodded eagerly. “Okay deal! What do I do first?”
As they gathered ingredients, Hillary instructed Brie on measuring and mixing. The girl listened intently, or so it seemed. But all the while her hands inched closer to Hillary's sides, just waiting to strike. The scatterbrained mother was all too unaware of her daughter’s schemes. They carried on in relative peace until Hillary reached into a cupboard to get some baking powder and Brie saw her opportunity. "Gotcha!" Two hands flew to Hillary's bare midriff, scribbling mercilessly.
"Brie-hehehehe! Stop that this instant! Hahahaha" Hillary gasped between peals of laughter. With her hands holding the powder, she was helpless to escape her daughter’s wiggling fingers.
"You're in for it later, missy." Hillary playfully threatened, as Brie went back to mixing the ingredients. Her daughter just beamed, not the least bit fearful of retribution.
After the successful, and slightly chaotic, cooking, Hillary excused herself to freshen up, while her daughters ate. She stepped into the bathroom and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled from thrashing around in laughter. Flour dusted her blouse and pencil skirt outfit. Small red marks lingered from the squirrel's scampering claws. Hillary sighed and began tidying herself. She ran a comb through her long red locks till they shone once more. A wet washcloth removed the remnants of their cooking antics. After some touches to her makeup, she looked good as new.
"Girls, I have to head to the office now," Hillary announced, peering into the kitchen.
Brie and Tina sat enjoying their homemade waffles, syrupy mouths turning up in smiles at their mother. "Okay bye, Mom," Brie said.
"Be good to each other till I'm back tonight, okay?"
"We will, Mom. Have a great day!" Tina called.
Grabbing her purse, Hillary blew them kisses and headed to the garage. She climbed into her compact sedan, adjusting the rear view mirror and shifting gears with practiced ease. The familiar suburban streets soon gave way to shops, offices, and high rises. Hillary pulled into the parking garage below her company building. The building where Hillary worked was a typical mid-rise office structure, unremarkable in almost every way. Clad in reflective glass like so many of its neighbors, it blended seamlessly into the urban skyline.
Nodding to the attendant on her way in, she waited patiently for the elevator.
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