Cat Burglar

STOMP STOMP STOMP

I walked outside and looked up at the roof. Puck’s signal for assistance. He stood tall on the shingles.

“Mom! Can you get me a pair of cheap, black gloves? I want to be a cat burglar.”

“Hon, I don’t have any cheap black gloves.”

“Okay, well, any gloves will do.”

I tossed up his orange ski gloves. Not exactly incognito. And that’s how he spent an hour of his Saturday afternoon – hiding on the roof from passing cars.