Probably someday I’m going to write a poem about how I hate growing up. I just want to be best friends with all my siblings forever.
And play Harry Potter.
And throw socks at each other.
And walk to the store for ice cream.
And have dirt clog wars until someone throws a rock.
And play Bang!
And watch movies on the projector.
And fight about stupid things.
And threaten to pee on someone’s bed.
And help Mama peel potatoes.
And ride bikes and roller blades.
And be happy in California sunshine.
Heaven’ll be like that, right? Ice cream all day. And watermelon and pool parties and slip’n slides and no worries ever in a million billion years.