Homework on a weekend

In the lounge on a sofa, 9 year old
boy sits. His yellow-blue striped shirt
pulled o’er his nose
to the stingy smell of spinach cooking
on the stove. Adamantly
loathes the idea of homework on a weekend.

Mum inquires reason for such words,
met with but only silence. Sister hops around,
pink necklace in her neck,
no nail cutter in her hands,
“Bring me the nail cutter,” says mum.
“Are you gonna cut my nails?!” she asks with a frown.

Dad is here, bent over on now his shirt pulled o’er the
whole face. “Everyone does their homework
on weekends, c’mon” insists. Met with but only
silence. Empty pack of gummies
dad pulls outta kid’s pocket.
“No more gummies in this house” laughs.

Aunt and Granny,
mum and daddy,
all look at this will-o’-the-wisp, the
difficult spot he’s in. All but passed through
this phase before. Who wants to do homework
on weekends? They all thought.

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