Stupid Baby

‘She’s only eight,’ he thought again, but the thought seemed somehow inane.

He went and tucked the baby’s blanket around it protectively. It had stopped crying when Louise left.

“It’s all right, baby,” he whispered gently. “Daddy’s here. Go on back to sleep.”

The baby didn’t sleep, however, just continued staring towards the door where Louise had exited.


It was mid-afternoon, and John had gone to town. Marie was inside, working on the computer.

Louise lay out in the sandbox, getting her gingham dress dirty, not caring, and barefoot. The day was perfect, the weather almost too warm, but not quite.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)