Hudson didn’t leave his bed until his mother came to his room on the Friday morning and forced him from under the covers.
‘Get up Hudson’ she ordered, yanking the blankets from the bed and throwing them onto the floor before poking at her son as he growled and rolled over, curling into a ball. ‘I’m not leaving’ his mother added, plonking herself down on the bed and crossing her arms. ‘Do I need to start singing?’ she threatened after a few minutes of silence.
‘No!’ the teenager muttered, pulling the pillow over his head. ‘Why are you tormenting me mother? Why can you not let me wallow in pity alone, I’m not hurting anyone.’
His mother laughed as she poked him again, making him squirm, ‘I know all your ticklish spots remember’ she warned in a low voice, ‘don’t make me use them.’
Scowlin
