It had been a particularly long day, starting with a furious cat fight in the back garden at 4 am that had woken the baby, descending rapidly towards the leaking washing machine when they arrived back from the shops and reaching its crescendo with the 'burnt toast' tantrum at lunch time. The afternoon had seen a slight hush in proceedings, merely serving to lull her into a false sense of security. During a tussle Barbie lost a leg, followed swiftly by a decapitated Sylvanian rabbit; it could have been carnage without timely intervention. Peace was restored briefly but when scrabbling for a fallen felt pen she found something very dead and very mouldy behind the fridge. After disposing of it in the compost bin she stands at the kitchen sink watching a scruffy sparrow flit across the garden and wondering if there was any chance they could swap places. A piece of folded paper is placed on the drainer next to her cold cup of tea. She opens it. Beneath a huge yellow flower in large wobbly writing she reads, 'to mum x'.
(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey)