Legos, Legos, Legos

(Days eight and nine of Writing 101 writing prompts)
“Do we have to?” Liam whines, drawing out each word. “My tummy thurts.” Liam stretched out dramatically on his racecar bed rubbing his round tawny belly.
“Cut the baby talk and get to work,” I snapped.
Zack and Liam jump. Liam rolls off the bed and starts slowly placing brightly colored plastic blocks into clear bins. I rake handfuls of blocks off the checkered flag rug and fling them into bins. I sort through piles of toys and kid clothes and books. Zack grabs a stack of picture books and rushes to his bookcase and drops the stack. Zack turns to me and freezes. I glare at him and keep sorting. He quickly picks up books and places them on the shelves. Books start falling down as Zack shoves more into the shelves.
“I didn’t make this big mess,” I grumble.
“You know if we get this done that’s a big job. We should get a big dessert,” says Liam.
“Why is this my job? If you just put your toys away. How hard is it to put away damn pajamas?”
“We could go to Dairy Queen.” Liam arched his eyebrows. “We doing good job here.”
More books fall. Zack jerks around to catch my eyes, clutching books, piles of books. Zack scrambles to arrange them. I stare at him. My hands moving faster and faster.
“We could go to Rita’s.”
“Why am I doing this?” I sort. Crayons in art boxes, socks in the sock drawer, race cars fly into bins.
“This isn’t me.” Army soldiers rain into a bucket. My hands crush a half finished puzzle.
Zack’s eyes grow wider.
“I like water ice. And Daddy likes water ice. And Mommy you like water ice. ”
The entire top shelf of books cascades to the rug. Tears run down Zack’s face.
“Ooooo, I’m telling. Mommy, Zack knocked over all those books.”
My hands spring to Liam’s mouth crushing blocks into his mouth.
“No, Mommy, please, Mommy,” Zack pleads. He wraps his plump arms around my waist.
My hands return to my lap. Liam sputters and rolls away from me. Zack and Liam embrace. The toys are sorted into blue, green and bins. With swift easy motions, I organize the bookshelves. A row of stuffed animals smile at me from the wooden bureau. The boys watch me from the bottom bunk with cautious eyes I pick up the last of the Legos and leave.

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