“Now, you sit right there. We have to wait for my mommy to bring the tea out.”
Erika the doll sat at the miniature mosaic table, waiting. She kept an impatient eye on her own mother.
“Because- just cause I’m your mommy doesn’t mean I’m big enough to boil water. My mommy said so.”
Erika’s head slumped forward, her eyes automatically blinked closed with the movement.
“I know you want your tea Erika, but you’re just going to have to wait patently like good little girl.”
“It’s patiently, dear.” A voice calls from the kitchen.
“Stop listening, Mommy! I’m teaching her lessons.” She leans in close, whispering into the tiny plastic ear. “I mean patiently, you have to wait patiently. Just like me.”
The weight of Erika’s head, already bending towards the ground, pulled the tiny body off the tiny chair and onto the floor.
“Now that’s very dramatic!”
Erika stayed face down on the carpet, not moving a muscle. A tray of steaming water and tea bags arrived on a metal tray.
“That’s not how a good girl gets her tea.” The mommies say in unison.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”