When Moma Puts her Boots On

The door opened and he quickly stepped into the office. He was nervous. Nervous for the show that would not happen. In short clipped steps he walked over and stood in front of her, his body tight and shoulders pulled up and in as if he were a turtle and would pull his head in to protect himself. The boy came over and stood at her knee. "Mom?" he said as his blue eyes darted trying to take in everything before flight was needed. The woman uncrossed her legs, closed the old annual she was paging through and smiled.
"Hey Babe", she answered in what she hoped her most reassuring voice. The woman stood up and guided her child out of the school office.
"Am I in trouble Mom?" he asked sneaking sideways glances at her as her hurried to keep up with her long pace. "You are wearing your angry boots."
She looked down at the hard sound coming from her feet. Her foot wear a solid black leather with a nice heel. She wore them when she needed to be as big as the world.
"Your not in trouble. Get every thing out of your locker. Your principal is dead meat though."