Paige Daniels’ ‘ Super Mom’s Cookie Caper’ asks the question: Can a woman in the modern world be a great mom with three kids and a husband and have the career? And in this case, a career as a superhero? In short, can she have it all?
To find out, here’s an early look:
Super Mom’s Cookie Caper
by Paige Daniels
“Oh my God! They’re all dead! Someone murdered them!”
I sit bolt upright in my bed. My senses tingle and my breath quickens.
“No, no, this can’t be!” I hear from down the hall. “Why did they have to die?”
Microseconds before I zoom off, I feel a warm hand gently wrap around my wrist. My husband shakes his head. “Take a breath. Don’t be running off at super speeds. Hon, I’m sure there’s a bad guy out there plotting to take over the world . . . again, but I doubt he’s in our living room right now.”
I slowly let out a breath. He’s right, no need in exposing my secrets to the kids . . . just yet. “Thanks, honey. I need to keep that under control. ”
Michael smiles. “That’s what I’m here for.”
The shriek happens again and we scramble out of bed and run into the dining room. In front of the large aquarium, our tiny, seven-year-old daughter is sobbing. “Mr. Fish an . . . an . . . Ms. Blue, they um . . .”
We go to our daughter and take her in our arms. I look over to the aquarium and floating on top is the whole aquatic menagerie.
I huff under my breath, “Damn.” I pat her head and say, “I’m sorry, honey. We can get more fish. On the plus side, you still have two cats, a dog, and a gerbil.” I peep over her head and look at my watch. We’re going to be late. “Listen, Annie, I know this isn’t the best way to start the day, but we really got to get a move on.”
Michael gives her a tickle and she laughs. “We’ll go to the pet shop this weekend and you can pick out whatever fish you want.”
She sniffs and wipes her wet face with the back of her arm and gives a half smile. “Okay, Daddy.”
He pats her on the head and says, “Okay, now do what your mom says. Scoot and get ready.”
She leaves the room and we both stand. His big green eyes grow serious and he grumps, “I’ll give you two guesses who’s responsible for the great fish massacre of two thousand seventeen.”
We both look at each other and yell simultaneously, “Parker!”
A disheveled red-haired boy shuffles out of the back, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “What?”
I look over to the aquarium. “Didn’t I tell you to use spring water and not the stuff from the tap when you refilled the fish tank? Look, they’re dead because you were too lazy to go down to the basement and get the spring water. Like, I don’t have enough to deal with already?” My case load of criminals is almost higher than the pile of dirty laundry downstairs. “You’re eleven years old. You’re mature enough to keep clean water in a fish tank.”
His eyes spring open and he shakes his head. “I didn’t use tap water. I swear!”
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