Excerpt: Ah, title? This year I'm starting withOUT a title and I'll see if that works better...

Jack, six going on sixteen at times, ran into the kitchen naked, holding a stuffed rabbit out like an airplane and making engine noises complete with spittle. Tana and her mother simply watched him as he arced around them, the dining room furniture, and two of the cats on his way back down the hallway whence he came.
“He’s your kid,” Tana said.
“He’s your brother,” her mother replied, in a tone that said this was a common exchange.
“Are you going to dress him before school?”
“Oh, I thought I might. I already get strange looks from the teachers. I thought I might show up in something other than an afghan and an oversized T-shirt, myself.”
“Say it ain’t so, Mom.”
“No, really. I’m going for a whole new persona this year, Kiddo. I’m trying on the ‘responsible middle-class Mom’ thing. Constricting, I know, but someone’s gotta do it.”
“Just promise me you won’t get a minivan and you won’t greet me with cookies in the afternoon.”
“Done.”
“On second thought, I’d like the cookies. No raisins, though. Must be completely without nutritive value or it ruins the whole effect.”
“Not even carob?”
“No freaking way, Mom. Get with the program!”
“I’ll try, Dear. I’m buying an apron on my way home from taking you guys to school.”
“You are not!”
“I am. Just to show you. Of course, mine will probably have political bumper stickers sewn on, and it’s not like I’d ever wear it, but I may just buy one. Just to show you that people are malleable.”
“Jack’s so malleable he’s currently trying to climb into the catbox. In case you wanted to know.”
Genny glanced over at the covered litter box, where a still-naked Jack was leaning, digging around for something. “He’s probably looking for landrovers on Tatooine again. Sigh.” She got up and scooped her up son, hauling him to the kitchen sink for a washup.