Mom says, “No garbage.” a lot. I’m not allowed to lick the floor or eat from the garbage pail (I can barely reach it, anyway).
When we walk around the neighborhood or go to the park, I’m not allowed to eat banana peels or sunflower seed shells or pick up empty pudding cups or coffee lids. I’m not allowed to have candy wrappers or eat goose poop or sniff around by the dumpster.
Apparently, garbage is a bad thing. Sometimes, Mom writes a word or a sentence or a story that’s garbage. She doesn’t mince words about it. She says, “This stinks!” and “What am I talking about?” and “Are you eating a napkin?”
Mom is not worried when she writes garbage. She thinks if she “gets the garbage out” the good stuff will come next.
I know this is true because after Mom and I took the garbage out once, we walked around the back of the dumpster, and I found the good stuff! Macaroni noodles!!
Before Mom could say the word, “Leave it,” I ate one!