“Lower your voice,” said Mom.

Mom yells when I argue with her, when I suck my thumb, bite nails, twirl hair, pinch sisters, eat too many cookies, stare at her, or not look at her, talk too softly, or not talk at all.  I can’t do anything right by her.

“These girls will drive me to drink,” said Mom to Aunt Mae.

If Mom drinks as much as Daddy did, what will my sisters and I do then?  I am kicked to the kidneys as I wonder what I do that is so bad that Mom has to talk like this.