Horror replaced youthful freshness as Bobby dodged her hand. "Don't! I took 20 minutes to get right."

"You meant to do that?" Marie pulled herself in, and gave her son a stern glare that melted into concession when his boyish smile returned.

"Oh, I need new cleats for the game on Friday." Bobby wheeled around and bolted down the path to the curb where a monstrous yellow machine sat idling impatiently.

Marie's shoulders slumped, her mouth dropped, and she blinked in disbelief. "Friday?" Her words were weak, and meant for no one but God himself to hear. "You've got to be kidding?" She knew he wasn't though. Bobby joked around about a lot of things, but never baseball. Marie took hold of the mop stick, and held it boldly before her. "Well, Prince, may I have this dance?"

"Bye, Mom."

Marie barely had time to glance up and see the blur that was her thirteen-year-old bundle of optimism fly out the door just as the bus bellowed out a loud, obnoxious, honk of a warning. "Nicole! Breakfast…"

"Got it!" Nicole held a bar of questionable nutrition high above her perfectly coiffed head.

Marie shook her head. "That's great, dear, just what I would have picked."

Nicole grinned from ear to ear as she skipped backwards toward the gapping doors of the bus. "I know, great huh?"