Poopoohead

Tyler’s mother took his candy away and threw it out the window. She said it was poison. She’s an old poopoohead anyway. I ate mine and it wasn’t poison, so there.

“You poopoohead!” he yelled at David, as they jockeyed for the front of the pram in their blue shorts suits.

The thought of it made him feel physically sick. Not waking up with Hannah’s long, thick red hair tickling his face, or Lily’s little hand on his arm, shaking him awake. Come on Daddy, you big old sleepyhead poopoohead. Not taking Toby the dachshund around the block before work, […]