So, here’s the skinny: every Friday for over a year hundreds of people join a kind of writing flash mob over here.

For five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation.

Unscripted. Unedited. Real. All on the same prompt that I post here at 1 minute past midnight EST ever Friday.

Write and see what comes out. There’s no right or wrong.

It’s a #FiveMinuteFriday flash mob! <—click to tweet this!

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

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One of my favorites from last weeks was this beauty by Amy at Sharing a Cuppa.

OK, are you ready? Please give me your best five minutes on:

::

Path…

:

GO

I would follow those fat, little calves anywhere.

It’s hot with a perfect breeze and the rare ocassion where we have family in town. Zoe trips and skips along the side walk ahead of me. Both knees are still scraped from yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.

But nothing slows her down.

Blonde curls beckoning, bobbing up and down – one beautifully perfect thing about DC humidity.

We all chase her. The boys at a safe pace because they know how apt she is to fall down. Uneven surfaces will bring her back to her scabbed knees. But we can’t help but chase, each trying our best to win that waterfall giggle.

She runs and the path winds before us and opens up on a playground dwarfed by high rise office buildings. The boring gray splashed with astroturf and jungle gyms. We run and climb and laugh and the sky is still much brighter than 9pm should be. Until she digs her bottle out of my bag and that blankie.

The one Sara gave her. The one that arrived in the mail with the note that said African print should always trump something in pink.

My girl she lays down on the edge of the path and wraps Sara’s words around her. A bottle of milk and a wide-eyed mama by her side.

STOP

{Subscribers, you can just click here to come over and play along}

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I think motherhood should come with a super hero cape and a cheerleader.
My {free} ebook The Cheerleader for Tired Moms might be the next best thing.
Enter your email address and it’s coming your way just before Mother’s Day!

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