Ticky Tacky: A Snapshot Of One Family's Life in Suburbia

Sipping her morning latte with stevia, staring out the breakfast nook windows at the Bradford pear tree which was flowering now, Minnie sighed contentedly. She heard Richard bounding down from upstairs and stood up to prepare his vanilla chai hemp seed acai green smoothie and noticed there was only one frozen waffle left for Daisy’s breakfast. She sighed again, less contentedly, and texted the nanny to ask her to stop at Whole Foods on her way over.

“Dicky, I need you to call another plumber today. The guy from last week gave me a creepy feeling,” she said with mildly pleading eyes as he took the smoothie from her hand without looking.

“His prices are low, you can cope,” he replied while unfolding that day’s Wall Street Journal, slurping his smoothie, and standing intermittently on his tippy toes trying to stretch a sore hamstring.

Minnie busied herself with a cookbook after the nanny arrived, while Richard leered at her ass and tits.

Daisy bounced into the kitchen, “Gubmornin fambly! There’s a monster in my room, but I think we made fwiends when it got dark last night.” 

The nanny scooped Daisy up and busied her with helping to warm the maple syrup while Minnie and Richard stayed focused on the cookbook and the WSJ, respectively.

Later that night, at the Olive Garden, after ordering chicken alfredo, filled with delightful anticipation of such an indulgence, Minnie fought back tears as she glanced at Daisy and then Richard, then sighed again.