What are you to do when you're five?

I sat beneath the laundry pile,
shaking, even quaking
in my wet, blue wellies
as I escaped the eyes of the fire-bellied dragon.

She turned, as if the glint in her eye
had caught sight of
little, old me and I burst with gusto, or lack of choices.
The clothes exploded everywhere and I roared

like the best little Lion I knew
before speeding down the hall and up the stairs,
paintbrush still in hand.
The lion in Wizard of Oz grew courage

as would I, but not today.
"You get down here right this minute! Now!"
The dragon yelled as she climbed the stairs.
I imagined 'Jack and the Beanstalk', I imagined 'Sleeping Beauty'

With my paintbrush covered in red paint
I jumped at her.
"Back, Dragon!" I screamed triumphantly as her white top was
smeared with red. I tumbled; a happy, dirty, wet pile

on the floor. Her hand grasped mine and dragged me
and my kicking, blue wellies to the bathroom.
"Don't want a shower. Already wet." I grinned pointing
towards the rain and my sodden hair and shirt.

"Never disagree with a woman, dear."
She removed my shirt, my paintbrush and my blue wellies.
I sighed as she did, the fun was over.
My eyes grew tired, I forgot about the game.