We wait in the carpool line past dismissal.\u00a0\u00a0The AC in our electric cars is on full blast.\u00a0\u00a0Our three-year-olds took a field trip to the public library today.\u00a0\u00a0Autumn, their co-teacher, texted us a picture of them huddled around a computer, an unfamiliar object given the schools zero technology policy.\u00a0\u00a0Some touch the keyboard, others the mouse, all have their mouths open and faces tinged blue from the screen.<\/p>\n
Investigating the origins of speech?! It has been an unprecedented day,<\/em>\u00a0Autumn wrote.\u00a0\u00a0At home we also support the zero technology policy, but seeing our budding intellectuals pretend to conduct online research makes us smile.<\/p>\n Finally Ms. Alice, the head of Mossy Hands Nursery School, appears carrying a bullhorn typically reserved for protests. We turn off our cars, no need to waste energy, and walk to her.<\/p>\n \u201cToday is a first for me as an educator!\u00a0\u00a0The students, well, they appear to be conducting a sit-in,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n Our hearts swell with pride at this act of civil disobedience.\u00a0\u00a0We joke about what our tiny gurus are protesting; more servings of locally sourced silken tofu pudding.<\/p>\n Nash, our children\u2019s other co-teacher, takes the bullhorn.<\/p>\n \u201cThe students have learned to read,” he says.<\/p>\n Nash is a love and light being but he appears less radiant, perhaps overwhelmed by our small savants’ developmental catapult or he forgot his morning adaptogenic tea.\u00a0\u00a0We reach for our phones, used in emergencies, to call grandparents and post on social media, Taking fiction recs for 3yo w\/ college level reading proficiency!<\/em><\/p>\n Nash continues, it happened suddenly; sounding out street signs on the walk, flipping through picture books in the children\u2019s section, asking the librarian things like \u201cHow much knowledge is in the library?\u201d climbing the shelves for the history of the world, and now reading in silence except for the occasional question.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat sort of questions?\u201d we say.<\/p>\n Nash waves for us to follow him into the school.\u00a0 While we agree to support our burgeoning activists, for a bit, we\u2019re mindful they\u2019ll soon get cranky from a glucose drop without a freshly picked and blanched mint and kale smoothie, that naps are needed for brain development, and of course sunset yoga is crucial to maintaining circadian rhythm.\u00a0\u00a0We march down the hallway past our petite artists self-portraits painted with mud collected from the marshland behind the school.<\/p>\n Through the glass door we see them and our stomachs sink.\u00a0\u00a0Our babies are in conventional chairs, their feet barely touch the floor, at desks they hunch over open books.\u00a0\u00a0They\u2019re more focused then when Baz, the local beekeeper, brings them fresh honeycomb.<\/p>\n Autumn comes out of the classroom.\u00a0\u00a0We want to know what the hell is going on.\u00a0\u00a0We want to hug our children after receiving consent.\u00a0\u00a0We want to provide them observational or effort-based feedback so they are encouraged but don\u2019t become praise junkies.\u00a0\u00a0Then, we want to take them home.\u00a0\u00a0She acknowledges our feelings but suggests we pause and give them space to emerge from this state on their own.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m noticing they have big thoughts like why are we here and what happens when we die,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n We give appreciation for Autumn\u2019s perspective but wonder if our babies wouldn\u2019t be more secure at home with us.\u00a0\u00a0Plus, we have lentils sprouting for dinner.<\/p>\n As a compromise, Autumn lets one of us use a box of squirrel-shaped organic no-added sugar gummies to assist with the transition.\u00a0\u00a0The parent enters the classroom shaking the box, a call that summons our children out from deep in the forest.\u00a0\u00a0But the trance continues.\u00a0\u00a0The parent opens the box and places a compostable packet of gummies in front of each child.\u00a0\u00a0There’s no movement.\u00a0\u00a0They open a packet, remove a gummy and touch it to their child\u2019s lips. The child turns the page of, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance<\/em>.<\/p>\n Slumping to the floor the parent starts to cry.<\/p>\n \u201cWho am I?\u201d the child asks, their voice a bell of hope.<\/p>\n The parent crawls to the child.<\/p>\n \u201cYou are my baby!\u201d they say.<\/p>\n The child reaches out and pats their parent\u2019s head, just as our parents had done to us, and replies, \u201cI think I am much more than that.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n They arrive after Alyssa\u2019s Daddy ran off with the au pair. Susan, desperate to not appear like the single mom she now is, lies to her boss about a running injury and offers to work from home as she recovers.\u00a0 She\u2019s never gone for a run in her life.\u00a0 In the mornings they commute together up the stairs to the attic office.\u00a0 There, Susan works as Alyssa watches more princess movies in one day than she has in her four-year life.\u00a0 During a call Susan watches Alyssa walk to the far corner of the office and pet the wall, she has an hourglass gaze, as if her brain is rebooting.\u00a0 Susan hits mute and takes off her headset.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything okay, my love?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n \u201cThe bunnies are here,” Alyssa says.<\/p>\n Susan presses her ear to the wall but hears nothing. \u00a0Back at her desk, just to be safe, she orders animal poison for same-day delivery. \u00a0Susan rolls sandalwood and orange essential oil on her temples as Alyssa waves hi to their new house guests.\u00a0 At dinner it\u2019s all Alyssa can talk about. At bedtime she blows them a goodnight kiss.\u00a0 While Alyssa sleeps, Susan throws the poison into the attic crawl space and leaves a voice message for the child therapist recommended by her life coach.<\/p>\n The next morning Alyssa, arms full of supplies, follows Susan up the stairs to the attic. During Susan\u2019s weekly staff meeting Alyssa creates a pillow shrine for the bunnies and reads them Good Night Moon<\/em>.\u00a0 After another unsuccessful nanny interview Susan takes off her headset and hears scratching.\u00a0 From her desk it\u2019s faint, like a branch against a window on a sunny day, but next to Alyssa the sound is clear, claws on drywall.\u00a0 Susan drags Alyssa downstairs and calls an exterminator from the safety of the front lawn.<\/p>\n \u201cI can come tonight but there\u2019s an emergency fee. Better that though, than them chew\u2019n through your wires and crawling over your kid!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Despite everything, Susan wishes Alyssa\u2019s Daddy would come back and handle this mess. \u00a0Instead she and Alyssa go to the playground and wait for the exterminator to arrive.\u00a0 Alyssa cries when she sees the cages and Susan says nothing when he steps on Alyssa\u2019s picnic blanket and leaves a muddy boot print.\u00a0 After he’s done, promising it’s taken care of, Susan gives Alyssa a long bath with lavender-scented bubbles.<\/p>\n That night, Susan goes to the attic to finish some work.\u00a0 There, she feels them breathing in the walls.\u00a0Their moist exhale becomes her inhale.\u00a0 What they are she refuses to know.\u00a0 On hands and knees she crawls over to the wall and hears an entire village of creatures, eating and sleeping and moving and living as if everything is fine.\u00a0 Susan is not fine.\u00a0 Using the palm of her hand she smacks the fragile wall.\u00a0\u00a0Bang!\u00a0 The creatures go\u00a0still.\u00a0\u00a0She does it again, harder this time, making the wall bow and gray insulation dust puff out from the seams.\u00a0 She\u2019s finding her\u00a0rhythm.\u00a0\u00a0With both hands she pounds out her good riddance until everything goes\u00a0quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cMomma, time to wake up,\u201d Alyssa whispers.\u00a0 She\u2019s mimicking how Susan used to wake her up early for long weekend adventures. The morning light beams in as Alyssa touches the attic wall. An unreadable expression washes over her face.<\/p>\n \u201cOh no!\u201d Alyssa says.<\/p>\n For breakfast Susan scrambles eggs to the beat of Motown\u00a0tambourines.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s go play in the ocean!\u201d she says.<\/p>\n Alyssa\u2019s expression remains sullen but Susan is sure the waves could wash it away.\u00a0 Alyssa shakes her head\u00a0no.\u00a0 Susan sips her coffee as she watches Alyssa walk her full plate of eggs over to the counter.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t leave the bunnies alone,\u201d Alyssa says.<\/p>\n Digging sounds start in the kitchen\u00a0wall, so intense the eggs on Alyssa\u2019s plate jiggle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" While we agree to support our burgeoning activists, for a bit, we\u2019re mindful they\u2019ll soon get cranky from a glucose drop without a freshly picked and blanched mint and kale smoothie, that naps are needed for brain development, and of course sunset yoga is crucial to maintaining circadian rhythm.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":20998,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20844","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","writer-tara-van-de-mark"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20844","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20844"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20844\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21001,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20844\/revisions\/21001"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/20998"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20844"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20844"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20844"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}The Bunny Family in the Wall<\/h5>\n