They laughed behind cupped hands, grade-school whispers assessing her dress.
Look! It’s as big as a tent!
Peter’s face reddened as he accepted his forgotten lunch bag from his mother’s strong hand. Her face glowed, Scandinavian accent thick as she spoke love over her son in broken English.
I dangled upside down from the playground bars, observing this heavyset woman adorned in a shapeless house dress swishing past her ankles.
Thank you, Mimu, Peter spoke quietly, his eyes beholding his mother, affection mingled with a touch of embarrassment upon realizing he had verbalized his gratitude before a captive audience. This, during his first week at our school.
Mimu smiled as she tenderly tousled his hair, murmuring love in her foreign tongue. Blowing her son a kiss she turned and padded down the street, humming as she pushed her baby home.
The playground taunting resumed.
Mimu? Mimu? Sounds like a whale! croaked one student, sending the scoffers to another round of jeering.
The Palest Ink 
Excellent and thought provoking article as always, and congrats on having this posted on The Good Book Company’s website, this is exciting!
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