Gemotions

The tiny brush slipped again, sending a blob of crimson across the meticulously painted miniature. Amelia clenched her jaw, the muscles in her face tightening. She’d spent weeks on this Napoleonic infantryman, and now her daughter, Lily, wanted to “help.” Lily, all of eight years old, bounced on the balls of her feet, her eyes sparkling with uncontainable excitement. “Can I try, Mommy? Please, please, please?” Amelia sighed, then bit the inside of her cheek. She just wanted to finish this one figure.

“Maybe later, sweetheart,” Amelia said, the words strained. “Right now, Mommy is… concentrating.” Her voice, she noted, sounded higher than usual. Lily's smile wavered.

The clatter of Lily's toys on the floor seemed excessively loud as Amelia tried to smooth over the blotch. The miniature's pristine details were now threatened by her daughter's presence. She had another hour, maybe two, before the house was quiet.