The Determination of Children

I’m making a mountain, brick by brick, for my great, big castle to sit, and my cool space ship to sit, so then my dragons and pilots and heroes, and for, especially my super, super heroes– They can all live together, and be happy. I’m making a mountain in mosaics, with plastic pixels and perfect fits: Two-ers fit three-ers, and flat four-ers, and hing-ey bits, and orbitals fit, and, and the others, too. I’m making stacks of ferns and forests fastened by one-ers into flat plates lapping over, into greens and greens, and prying apart old race cars with my teeth, until my gums bleed red. And all the sticky ones, the Blow Pop slobber ones at the bottom of the trunk, I pour them out like rainbow sprinkles, like pitter-patter rain, down the side of my mountain. An avalanche! Then, Sierra, all skinny legs with her frilly bows and stupid, ugly face came by to, Oops– A palette of little play things strewn across the floor, brick by brick. I’m making an even better mountain.