I woke up early that fateful morning... I was excited. Today I was going to do it! I started my mountain at about the size of a small cup. But slowly, as the morning wore on, it grew. By the time lunch was over, it was the size of a crock-pot, maybe bigger. I cared for my mountain. I sang to it. I talked with it. I sat in front of it for endless hours, just looking at it. I ate dinner hurriedly, and rushed back to its side. By now it was almost a mature mountain. Tall, proud, and beautiful. At bedtime, I smiled. I had grown the perfect mountain in my own house! On my way to bed I said goodnight to my parents.
But before I could escape my dad said, "You still have to do the dishes John," and with a defeated sigh I trudged back to the kitchen to dismantle my mountain.
You need to be logged in to comment