Mommy Difficult

As a child, the last of seven, I held on to my mother's long house dress and trailed her as she navigated the chaos of the house.  Sucking my right thumb and clenching the fabric in my left fist I'd barely keep up with her paces, slowing her down.  Not seeing anything beyond her dress, often bumping into her without knowledge of when she would move, stop nor her pace, there was no where else in the house I would rather be.