In the parking lot, I ask my sister if she's ever had the urge to kick the snow gobs from behind the tires of cars.
She says, "Yes."
I say, "On other peoples' cars?"
She says, "Just my own."
Then with her black high-heeled boots she kicks the gob off a beaten-up Volvo.
Later we tell Mom. We can't stop laughing.
Mom says, "I have that urge all the time."
I say, "With other peoples' cars?"
She says, "Yes! Harley finally made me promise I'd stop - then I begged him to let me take my promise back."
It's GENETIC.
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I love this! I grew up in Michigan and am all too familiar.
It has a real sweetness to it. I imagine it's Thanksgiving, and they're coming home from the store with arms full of groceries and retelling the story to mom in the kitchen. I especially like how mom wanted to take her promise back. It adds a sense of whimsy.
Love it! I always kicked those snow gobs myself.
For some reason, I picture adult children with their mother, but that's just me as the reader putting something into it. I wonder if you need the dialogue tags. In a story where people are known as "sister" and "Mom," why have Harley (presumably "Dad") have a name?
I know exactly what you mean, by the way. I have the urge all the time.