Tyson's Trouble with Meat

Along with quickly passing time and endless, circular thoughts of the upcoming days, Tyson paced forward and back in the waiting room full of Redbook and Parenthood from days gone by. Her chunky heeled mary janes clicked on the polished concrete floor while the hipster women of a hipster couple tried to argue with her partner under her breath.

Deep breaths, she reminded herself, would help. Yep, they had to. Surely they would. You know, even the worst case scenario wasn’t that bad. She would just end up in the hospital a little sooner. Breath, dammit.

A chubby toddler knocked a children’s book off the arm of the couch and hit a skinnier toddler in the head. The ensued crying distracted a very easily distractible Tyson into one of her fairly common “what if” scenarios. What if I went over right now and kicked the fat kid for hitting the other kid with the book. What would happen? Would preppy soccer mom just sit there and look appalled while checking her iPhone? Would the big sister clap her hands in joy?

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