The toothbrush she had been using to scrub the grout on the kitchen sink snapped as another yell of frustration came through the open back door. Stepping away from the sink still holding the broken brush, she took a step towards the enclosed patio, pausing before getting out the door.

Instead of rushing out to fix what was wrong, she watched her toddler son in his orange and yellow cozy coupe beat his clenched fists against the black steering wheel, occasionally blasting a squeak from the horn. His blue and white Keds stomped on the concrete floor as he twisted the wheel round and round. The coupe refused to move in the direction he wanted it to go. He climbed out of the car, his bare legs unsticking from the seat, and straightened the wheels.

After climbing back in, he pushed himself several feet before bumping into the aluminum side wall of the patio, making the window rattle in its frame. He swung the wheel to the right hoping to correct his mistake but to no avail. His clenched fists beat against the black steering wheel, eliciting a beep from the horn. Howling in frustration he climbed back out of the car, tugging at his diaper and slammed the orange door. It banged back open again. He straightened the wheels, got back in with another slam of the door and maneuvered away from the wall.

She went back to scrubbing the sink. Realizing the baking soda and vinegar had failed to eat away the grime, she picked up the bristle half of the brush and continued scrubbing. A few moments later the coupe door slammed again, there was a bang, plastic scrapping across concrete and another bang. Her son toddled into the kitchen taking a drink of his sippy then said -“Wrecked” – shrugged and went off to find something else to do. She looked out the back door to see the coupe resting on its round top and smiled. Setting the broken toothbrush down she gave up on the grime, rinsed, then dried her hands. She walked away from her own wrecked kitchen and into his bedroom where she found him playing on the floor. She watched him for a moment while he stacked scuffed Lincoln Logs, his brown hair mussy, a small stain on his Mickey t-shirt. Once he built them up, he knocked them over with a giggle. He looked up at her and smiled, white pearls gleaming in his toothy grin. Snuggling up next to him, they sat and built perfect blocks together.