"Don't kill me Clark!"
Clark grabbed the milk from the fridge, still half-asleep, and said to his mom, "I'd never hurt you mom, you know that. What's up?"
Martha waited for her son to open his eyes properly, and then she handed him the object she'd been hiding since he came down the stairs.
His favorite plaid shirt, now barely large enough to fit on his hand.
Clark looked at his mother and glared – being careful not to glare too hard.
Then he turned back to his milk.
Just before taking another gulp (straight from the bottle I might add), he muttered, "When I'm fully awake, I'm *so* gonna kill you mom."
Then he flashed her a sleepy, milk-moustached grin.
Martha smiled back, and turned back to making breakfast.
*****
Clark grabbed the milk from the fridge, still half-asleep, and said to his mom, "I'd never hurt you mom, you know that. What's up?"
Martha waited for her son to open his eyes properly, and then she handed him the object she'd been hiding since he came down the stairs.
His favorite plaid shirt, now barely large enough to fit on his hand.
Clark looked at his mother and glared – being careful not to glare too hard.
Then he turned back to his milk.
Just before taking another gulp (straight from the bottle I might add), he muttered, "When I'm fully awake, I'm *so* gonna kill you mom."
Then he flashed her a sleepy, milk-moustached grin.
Martha smiled back, and turned back to making breakfast.
*****
