Not Just Any Tickle Monster

They peek around the corner, wide-grinned and muscle-tight. Sisters, three, all in onesies. Daddy runs with arms outstretched as they burst into happy screams and wild hair and thumping feet. From this wild flock of earth angels one voice rises, "Help! It's a consubstantial tickle monster!"

In the kitchen over her cutting board, Mama stands smiling. Relieved.

So good, so far.