Cole tossed a handful of dirt. It landed in Myra's hair, and she slapped his hand. His squeals made her head throb. "Shut up!" Myra fell back on the grass. She flung an arm over her face.
"Nice stroller," a baby voice said.
Myra groaned. She despised baby talk.
More gooey words assaulted her ears: "My parents are loaded, but I'd rather play in the dirt. Let's trade places."
"We better not."
"Why not? Because your mom's so nice? She smacked you."
"She loves me."
Myra sat up.
Cole reached for her, his lip trembling, tears shiny in his eyes.