The Opposite of Clueless by Colette Parris

Image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

We wait in the driveway for the bus, my daughter crunching woodsmoke-scented leaves to pass the time. I’m an excellent mother, if the definitive parenting sites can be believed. Limited screen time, multiple bedtime stories, junk food only on special occasions, no exposure to unpleasantness, etc. But I’m bored, and leaf-crunching isn’t going to cut it. I teach my preschooler a catchphrase from my favorite decade, although introducing one’s child to snark is probably against the rules.

“As if,” she repeats, cocking her head. I know I’ll regret my decision in a day or two when she’s echoed the words ad nauseam, but at this moment she’s perfectly adorable, trying hard (and failing) to get the intonation just right. It’s excellent fodder for the kind of mother who records her child’s every move and sets up a highly lucrative YouTube channel. Which I am not. Seriously, though, this show is payment worthy. “As if, as if, as if,” my offspring shrieks, running back and forth from the garage door to the curb, leaving golden baby tornadoes in her wake. As if she doesn’t have a care in the world, other than ensuring adequate time in the jumping around room. As it should be, my inner voice opines in a self-congratulatory tone. A mango-hued conveyance finally arrives. I hand my mini-me off to the driver with an apologetic smile and a warning that she may be insufferable on the journey.
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That night, after bath and books, we lie like nesting commas on her turquoise and lavender comforter, her uncategorizable eyes wide shut, her breathing soft and even. Without warning, her right arm claims my neck in an inexorable chokehold. As if I’ve been conned by a four-year-old. As if she’s known forever how quickly she can lose me. As if she’s always been aware of the menace right outside; pervasive, like the scent of woodsmoke.

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Colette Parris is a Caribbean-American attorney with poetry and prose in Michigan Quarterly Review, Scoundrel Time, Gordon Square Review, The Offing, Lunch Ticket, Cleaver, and elsewhere. Her work has received numerous Pushcart and Best of the Net nominations, and was selected for inclusion in The Wigleaf Top 50 Very Short Fictions 2025. She lives in New York. Read more at: coletteparris.com.