|
A Day in the Life of
Moms
Affectionately dedicated to all my fellow
Stay at Home Moms
This story occurs in
my “Here and Now” universe, after “Boys Will Be Boys”. This is Special
Edition Anniversary CWP #4, which was created to celebrate four fabulous
years of Jixemitri. Helen Belden jumped as her alarm
clock buzzed loudly. With a weary groan, she reached over to the nightstand
and turned it off. Just five more
minutes, she sleepily said to herself. She had been up late the previous
night, working on table centerpieces for the annual Garden Club banquet. When
she finally did go to bed, her mind had been reeling from all that still
needed to be accomplished the following day. Twenty minutes later, she looked at the
digital clock and frantically hopped out of bed. I only meant to lie back down for a minute! she thought in
exasperation, as she raced to the bathroom. She hurriedly turned on the
shower and jumped inside. The hot water scalded her body, and she cried out
in pain as scrambled for the cold knob.
She reached for her shower gel, opened the top, but nothing came out
of the bottle onto her loofah sponge. Just great! She reluctantly used
the scentless soap, preferred by the male members of the family. She quickly
added shampoo to her thick, sandy curls and rubbed the lather from her hair
onto her legs. I’ll use this to shave
my legs. That’ll save me a few minutes. She grazed the razor over her
legs, ignoring the stinging sensation she felt. She turned off the water, and
hurriedly rinsed and dried off with the towel hanging on the hook by the
shower. As Helen was drying her legs, she noticed
countless razor nicks. This is just
great. Now I’ll have to wear dark hose to the banquet tomorrow night. I look
like Bobby after he “capsized” the Lynches’ cat. She quickly dressed and dried her hair.
Makeup would have to come later. She made sure that her husband was awake,
and then she practically ran downstairs to the kitchen to begin fixing
breakfast. As luck would have it, her youngest son, Bobby, was already wide
awake and, therefore, into trouble. He was sitting at the maple kitchen
table, calmly drinking a glass of juice. However, there was a large puddle of
orange liquid on the floor, which ironically resembled the juice in Bobby’s
glass. “Mornin’, Moms,”
Bobby said cheerily, blowing bubbles in his juice with his straw. He did not
seem the least bit concerned about the sticky mess under his feet. “Good morning, Bobby. Are you enjoying your
juice?” “Yup.” Bobby sat back in his seat, merrily
swinging his legs. Finally, he noticed the cross look on his mother’s face. “Sumpin’ wrong, Moms?” “Bobby, why
is the floor covered with orange juice?” “I kinda spilled
it. I was gonna bring Reddy in after breakfast to holp me clean it. He just ‘dores
norange juice.” Helen sighed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll
take care of it. I’d rather keep Reddy off the clean-up crew.” “I’m sorry, Moms,” Bobby solemnly replied.
“I did it actually.” “Do you mean ‘accidentally’?” Helen
corrected with a slight smile. Bobby had a habit of confusing his words. “Yeah, that’s what I said. I actually did it.” “Well, stay in your seat while I get the
mop. Orange juice can be slippery, and I wouldn’t want you to fall.” On her
way to the broom closet, Helen stepped in a spot of juice that she had not
noticed before. Suddenly, her feet flew out from under her and she landed
flat on her back, right smack dab in the middle of the “norange”
juice. “Gee whiz, Moms!” Bobby exclaimed excitedly.
“I didn’t know norange juice was that slippy!
Maybe you could leave it there an’ see if Trixie falls in it, too!” Helen stiffly stood to her feet; her
backside throbbed and her clothes were wet with juice. She retrieved the mop,
a bit more carefully this time, and began cleaning up the mess. She sighed
with relief when she finished, but before she could put away the mop, Bobby
suddenly hopped down from his chair, leaving little orange tracks throughout
the kitchen. Helen rolled her eyes, and once again mopped the floor. After she finished her task, she looked at
her watch to see if she had time to go upstairs and change before beginning
breakfast. Seeing that it was already after Her quiet moment ended abruptly as she heard
her oldest children clambering down the stairs. “Is not!” her only daughter yelled. “It is too!” her almost-twin hollered back. “Is not!” Trixie bounded excitedly into the
kitchen. “Moms! Mart says it’s my turn to clean out the chicken coop, but I
did it last time!” “Negative, my nefarious female sibling!
Methinks it was I who expurgated the fowls’ abode last.” Mart loved to use
big words to show off his vast knowledge of the English language. An added
benefit was that it infuriated his younger sister. “Sorry, Mart, but I have to side with Trix
on this one,” their eldest brother, Brian reminded. “Trixie cleaned the coop
out last time for you, so now it’s your turn.” Trixie stuck her tongue out at Mart. “Told ya!” Mart merely sulked, knowing it was pointless
to argue with Brian. “Alas, I must concede to my eldest kinsman,” he murmured
with a weary sigh. “Brian most likely has an itemized spreadsheet,
effectively calculating all antecedent exertions performed by each
constituent of this domicile.” Brian’s responsibility was well known around
Sleepyside. “Hey Moms, why are you all orange?” Trixie
asked, taking the juice out of the refrigerator and pouring herself a big
glass. “Because Bobby poured his own juice this
morning, and ended up spilling the majority of it in the floor. I had a
little accident while I was cleaning it up.” Moms removed the lid to the
skillet and stirred the potatoes. “I overslept, and now I’m running late, so
I haven’t had time to change my clothes.” As she replaced the frying pan’s
lid, she touched the hot skillet with her finger. “Ouch!” She hurried to the
sink and ran cold water over the burn. Brian, the future M.D., ran to get some
ointment. “Let me put some of this on you, Moms.” He rubbed some of the
ointment onto her burn and covered it with a band aid. “Now you’re as good as
new.” “Thanks, Brian.” Suddenly, Helen smelled
burning meat. “Oh, great! My sausage!” She hustled to the stove and turned
the meat, which by now looked like tiny black discs on one side. Mart sniffed the air. “Oh, fair maternal
caregiver, where are the delectable carbohydrates affectionately known as
biscuits?” Helen groaned and looked at her watch. She
had completely forgotten to start the biscuits! She threw a loaf of bread to
her middle son. “Start making toast.” Thank goodness she missed the
crestfallen look on Mart’s face! “I’ll set the table for you, Moms,” Trixie
offered. Quickly, she had the placemats on the maple table, followed by the
plates, silverware and glasses. “Brian, can you find Bobby and make sure his
hands are clean?” Helen asked. “Goodness knows what that boy has been up to.” “Sure, Moms,” Brian agreed. Helen reached into the refrigerator to get
out some eggs. She knew her husband would want scrambled eggs with his
sausage and potatoes. Suddenly, Reddy bounded into the kitchen. The big Irish
setter got tangled up in her feet, and soon they both crashed to the floor,
covered in egg yolk. Bobby, followed by Brian, ran into the
kitchen. “Hooray! You caughted him, Moms!” he
blurted. Helen sat on the floor, dripping in yellow goo, too stunned to say a word. Trixie, however, was
rarely at a loss for words. “Robert Harold Belden! What were you doing to poor Reddy?” she yelled at her youngest
sibling. Helen fearfully looked at the big dog that
was presently sitting on her lap. Only then did she notice the large bald
spot on Reddy’s head. The exposed skin had been colored with an orange
marker. “Bobby! What did you do?” Bobby assumed his most angelic look. “I
didn’t mean to, Moms. Honest. I actually
did it.” Brian led Reddy outside while Mart helped
his mother to her feet. Helen looked at the floor, which needed mopped once
again. “So what happened, Bobby?” she asked as calmly as possible. “Well, I wented
outside to get outta your way. I was gettin’ hungry so I stuckded a
piece of bubble gum in my mouth. Me an’ Reddy started rompin’,
an’ that gum just hoppded outta
my mouth an’ jumpded on Reddy’s head,” Bobby
admitted. As he continued his story, his china blue eyes grew wider by the
second. “Then,” he went on, “I tried to get all the
gum out, but it just keeped on stickin!
I didn’t want Reddy to have that junk in his hair, so I gotted
a razor that someone leftded outside an’ shaveded his head, just like Daddy shaves his beard off
in the mornin’.” “Oh, Bobby,” Helen protested. “You should
never play with razors! You could hurt yourself!” “I was all right, Moms,” Bobby proudly
proclaimed. “But then I seed that Reddy looked kinda
funny with that big bald spot on toppa his head. So
I thoughted if I colored it to match his fur, it
wouldn’t look so bad. But I couldn’t find my reddish-brown marker. I only
founded my norange one, so I used it instead.
‘Cause red an’ norange sorta’
look alike, duddn’t they?” Bobby paused
momentarily, noticing the angry look on his mother’s face. “It don’t look so
good, does it, Moms?” “No son, it don’t look so good,”
Helen agreed in exasperation. “Well, I was gonna
try sumpin’ else, but Reddy tooked
off before I could. Then Brian opened the back door, an’ Reddy runned inside, quick as a wink.” Bobby batted his big,
blue eyes innocently. “So really, it’s Brian’s
fault.” His eldest sibling cast him a warning glance. “You go up and get changed, Moms,” Trixie offered.
“I’ll finish breakfast for you.” “Yeah, Moms,” Brian assured. “I’ll help
Trixie here, and Mart will get the little monkey cleaned up.” “Much gratitude bestowed upon you, Brian,”
Mart muttered. He took Bobby’s sticky hand and led him to the stairs. “Come
on, you little ignoramus.” “Hey, I’m not a ignor…ignor… Mart what’s an igno… igno… what’s a whatever you said?” Bobby asked as they
walked up the stairs. “When I call you an ignoramus, I’m saying
that you’re really smart,” Mart
said. Helen shook her head as her sons’ conversation drifted out of hearing
range. “Thanks, kids. I’ll just be down in a
minute.” As she walked to the stairs, she passed her husband in the hallway.
He leaned down to kiss her good morning, but after seeing the gooey residue all
over her apron, he changed his mind. “Everything all right, hon?”
he questioned, straightening his tie. “Just peachy,” she mumbled, heading up the
stairs. In her haste to get out of her gooey clothes, she tripped on a toy
truck somebody had left on one of the steps. She quickly righted herself and
continued the trek to her bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, freshly scrubbed and
dressed, Helen returned to the kitchen. She sighed in relief as she sat down
in her seat. Trixie and Brian had quite successfully put the food in serving
bowls and placed it on the table. Mart had cleaned up the horrorcane, and everyone was
sitting at their places. Peter Belden was smiling and waiting for her so he
could ask God’s blessing on the food. Once she was settled, he prayed, and
everyone began filling their plates. “Feeling better?” Peter asked, spearing a
slightly-charred piece of sausage. Helen winced and nodded. Helen Belden never
ruined a meal. “Gee, didn’t you make biscuits?” Helen glared at her husband and slid the plate
of toast closer to him. He smiled contritely and helped himself to a piece. “Mmmm! Good toast,” he exclaimed, after smothering it with
marmalade. “Hey, Moms, what does ‘scrog’
mean?” Bobby asked, in between bites of scrambled egg. Mart and Brian choked
on their food and looked at their plates, as if those Corelle
dishes held the secrets of the universe. Helen looked at her older sons, then back to
her youngest. “I don’t know, Bobby. I’m not familiar with that term.” “Brian and Mart said you was ‘miliar with it. I hearded them
talking an’…” “It looks like today will be a most
splendiferous day!” Mart exclaimed. “The sun is shining, there’s a nice
breeze blowing from the east…” “And I don’t think we’ll get that rain that
was predicted,” Brian added. “Does ‘scrog’ mean
rain?” Bobby questioned, scratching his head with his fork. “I haven’t heard that word either, Bobby,”
Peter remarked, as he scrutinized his oldest sons’ faces. “Where did you hear
it?” Bobby wiped his sticky mouth with his arm
and launched into an explanation. “Well, last Friday, me an’ Brian an’ Mart
was outside playin’ ball. I hearded
a noise that sounded like dogs fightin’. I runned to see what was wrong ‘cuz
I was worried sumpin’ was wrong with Reddy. When I
founded him, he was with the neighbor’s girl collie dog, and they was makin’ an awful racket!” “Aw, this is a boring story,” interrupted
Mart. “Moms have I ever told you how lovely and youthful you’ve been looking
lately? And I must say, that apron matches your beautiful eyes perfectly.” “Thank you, dear, but I’d really like to
hear the rest of Bobby’s story,” Helen remarked wryly. “Please go on, Bobby.” Bobby
took a deep breath, and then launched into the rest of his account. “I thoughted Reddy was hurtin’ the
girl dog, so I runned over to them, but Brian an’
Mart said to leave ‘em alone. They started laughin’ and whisperin’, but I hearded them anyways. They said there must be sumpin’ ‘bout Fridays ‘cuz
everybody liked to ‘scrog’ that night. So, what’s
it mean, Moms, an’ can I do it, too?” The silence was so deafening at the Beldens’
breakfast table that you could hear birds chirping in “So, what’s everyone doing today?” Peter
asked in an overly cheerful voice, obviously trying to change the subject. “I’m going to start working on my car today,
Dad,” Brian piped, knowing that his words would please his father. For weeks,
his father had been asking Brian to work with Tom Delanoy to refinish his old
jalopy. As an added incentive to make him begin the job more quickly, Peter
allowed the girls to decorate the old Ford any way they wanted, as payment
for a prank the boys had played on the girls. However, Brian still had not
found time to begin the monumental task. Instead, he parked the “Pink
Panther”, as Trixie now called it, in front of the house and refused to drive
it. “That is good news!” Peter exclaimed.
“You’ve been procrastinating long enough. Although I knew you’d begin that
project eventually. I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to take the Pink
Panther back to college with you.” Brian, having skipped a year of grade
school, was going to be a sophomore in college at the age of 18. He attended “What are your plans for the day, dear?”
Peter asked his lovely wife. “I have so much to do! The appreciation
banquet for the Garden Club is tomorrow night, and I need to have the
centerpieces finished by this evening, so the decorating committee can get
the banquet hall ready in the morning. I still have to make a fruit basket
that’ll be given to the club president. Then, I need to drive to the
community building and take everything there and start setting up.” Helen
sighed wearily. “It’s going to be a long day. I’ll need you kids to pitch in
and help out with Bobby.” “But Moms, I need to spend the whole day
working on my car!” Brian retorted. “Tom has the day off, and he has to tell
me what to do. If I’m going to get it finished by the beginning of the fall
term, I need to get started today! It’s going to take about two weeks to
finish.” “I guess you’re excused from Bobby-duty.
Like your father said, you’ve procrastinated long enough. I’m sure I’ll have
enough help with…” “Many apologies, Moms,” Mart interrupted,
his mouth full of fried potatoes. “My eldest fraternal sibling has already
solicited my assistance for the afternoon.” “Yeah, Moms. Tom and I really need all the
help we can get. I’ve already asked all the fellas
to give me a hand.” Helen sighed and nodded her head. “I suppose
you both are excused. I’m sorry,
Trixie, but that leaves…” “Oh, Moms!” Trixie exclaimed frantically. “I
already told Honey that we would ride our bikes to all the neighbors today
and ask for donations for that family who lost their home in that fire. It’s
really important, and it’s for a good cause. I’ll just die if I don’t get to
help!” Helen listened to her daughter’s heartfelt
pleas. “Okay, Trixie. I suppose you can, just
this once.” She smiled weakly at her youngest child. “I guess it’ll be
just you and me today, Bobby.” Bobby noisily chewed his sausage that he had
smothered with ketchup. “Sure, Moms. I can holp you
with your ‘rangements. I know lots about flowers
an’ junk.” “Thank you, Bobby, but it might be best if
you played outside while I work on the flower arrangements. Thanks for the
offer, though.” Helen patted him affectionately on the arm. “I hate to bother you when you’re so busy,
Helen, but I need to ask you to do a favor for me. I have an important
meeting tomorrow at the bank with Mark Cox. He’s some grand high Pooh-Bah
fellow from another branch. We’re going to discuss the 50-year anniversary
for the bank. We’ll be planning a big two week open house. I’d like to wear
that new navy suit, but the pants need to be hemmed. Do you think you can handle that today?”
Peter glanced hesitantly at his wife. “I’ll take care of it, Peter.” Helen didn’t
sound too excited, but neither did she sound angry. “You’ll look handsome in your new suit, Dad.
You know what Mark Twain said. Clothes make the man; naked people have little
or no influence on society!” Trixie giggled. “He didn’t say that!” Mart needled her. “He did too! I read it on the computer!”
Trixie argued. “You aren’t the only one around here who can look up things,
Mr. Smarty-Pants!” “I’m
a smarty-pants! Mart said I was an ig-nor-a-mus!” Bobby exclaimed proudly. Peter’s moustache twitched in stifled
amusement. “Mart, don’t call your brother names, especially names that he
doesn’t understand.” “Gee Dad, that just about deletes every word
that Mart likes to use,” Trixie snickered. Mart scratched his head. “I’m not sure if
dear Beatrix was affronting me or young Robert.” “Well, we don’t have time for you to sit
here and ‘ponder’ about it,” Brian teased, getting up from the table. “It’s Mart stuffed the last bite of his potatoes
into his mouth. Spying the breakfast leftovers, he grabbed the two last
pieces of toast and crammed the remaining sausage and scrambled eggs in the
middle of them. “For dessert,” he muttered with his mouth full. “See ya later, Moms!” He hurried after his brother. “Gleeps!” Trixie
yelled, hopping up from the table. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I was
supposed to meet Honey fifteen minutes ago.” She ran out the back door in
typical Trixie-fashion. “I’ve got to go too, babe,” Peter said,
kissing his wife on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast. And for hemming my suit
pants!” After he grabbed his
briefcase, he hurried out the front door. Helen looked at the mess on the table,
counters, stove, and basin. She sighed loudly as she began carrying the
serving bowls to the already-overflowing sink. “Don’t worry, Moms! I’ll holp
you!” Bobby proudly proclaimed. He picked up the plates and carried them to
the sink. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and ceramic shards covered the
kitchen floor. The zealous little boy had tripped on his untied shoelaces and
broken all the plates. “Good heavens! Are you all right,
sweetheart?” Helen helped her son to his feet, making sure he carefully
avoided the broken dishes. “Boy, that sure made a big mess!” Bobby was
unfazed by his accident. “Sorry, Moms.
I actually did it.” Helen was quite relieved, until she saw the
mess of which Bobby spoke. Not only was the floor covered with ceramic pieces
and bits of food, it also had big splotches of dark, red ketchup, which Mart
and Bobby insisted complemented any type of food. “Go outside and play, Bobby. I’ll take care
of this.” Once again, Helen made her way to the broom closet and retrieved
the broom and mop. “Stay out of trouble!” she called as he slammed the back
door. Lord, grant me
serenity, she prayed as she cleaned the floor for the third time that
morning. An hour later… Helen stretched
and yawned as she settled down to work on the fruit basket. It had been a
hectic morning. It was nice to have a quiet moment to herself. She sipped a cup of hot tea, arranging
fruit attractively in an expensive decorative basket. When it was perfectly
perfect, as her daughter’s best friend would say, she wrapped it in a
transparent piece of gift packaging and wrapped a blue bow around the top. Not bad, she thought, pleased with her
work. She checked that
item off her mental list and proceeded to lay out the supplies she would need
in order to finish her centerpieces. She had completed three last night. Only three more to go, she thought
mournfully. Her fingers were still sore from sticking artificial flowers into
the Styrofoam bases inside the decorative vases. Why did I volunteer to do all these? she
wondered, brushing a curl out of her eyes. Probably because you are such a pushover, Helen Belden! Helen’s moment of
silence abruptly ended as Bobby slammed the kitchen door shut and plopped
down at the table across from her. “Whatcha doin’, Moms? Workin’ on the ‘rangements?” She nodded her
head. “Yes, son. I need to get these finished by this afternoon. Do you need
something?” Bobby shook his
head. “Nope. I was just wonderin’ sumpin’.” Helen looked up
from the centerpiece she was arranging. “What are you wondering, Bobby?” “Well, I was just wonderin’, hypokinetically,
what would it feel like if someone stucked sumpin’ up their nose?” She stifled a giggle
at Bobby’s pronunciation of “hypothetically”. “It would be very dangerous to ever stick anything up your nose, Bobby. So never, ever do that.” “Yeah, but, what would it feel like, Moms?” he
persisted. “I don’t know.
I’ve never stuck anything up my nose.” She carefully examined her son’s face
for any evidence of guilt. “Why do you ask?” “I-I’m just wonderin’…” Bobby stammered. He sat at the table,
swinging his legs back and forth. Assuming he had
gotten the answer to his question, Helen picked up a flower and resumed her
task. A few minutes
later, Bobby said in a quiet voice, “Hey, Moms. Just pretend
you stucked sumpin’ up
your nose. What do you think it would feel like?” Helen put down the
artificial rose she held. She
suspiciously took Bobby’s chin and lifted up his face. She looked up his nose
for any sign of crayons or pebbles. Satisfied it was clear of everything
(except for the usual objects little boys often have up their noses, that
is), she halfheartedly commented, “I don’t know. What exactly did I pretend to stick up my nose?” “Oh, I don’t
know,” Bobby casually answered, still swinging his legs. “Maybe sumpin’ like a… a string.” “Sweetheart, Moms
is really busy today. I don’t have time to play guessing games,” she replied in
an exasperated tone. “I don’t know what a string would feel like if you stuck
it up in your nose. Maybe you can ask Brian when he gets home.” “Okay, Moms.”
However, Bobby didn’t move from the table. He watched his mother skillfully
add some baby’s breath to the arrangement. “So you really don’t know what it would feel like?” he whispered, his
voice sounding a little shaky. Helen slammed the
decorative bird she had been holding down on the table. “Out with it, son. What did you do?” she demanded. “It feels like
there’s a string up my nose!” Bobby wailed, bursting into tears. “Why would it feel like there is string
up your nose?” “ ’Cuz it does!” “Bobby, how would
a string get up your nose?!” “Maybe I actually stucked
it up there!” he cried, large tears
streaming down his chubby, freckled cheeks. Helen hurried to
get the flashlight and, once again peered up her youngest son’s nostrils. “I
don’t see anything, Bobby. Are you sure
you stuck a string up your nose?” The tearful boy
nodded. “I jus’ wanted to see what it
would feel like,” he explained, sniffling. “I founded an old string from my
kite an’ wondered if I could fit it all up my nose. So I jus’ keeped stuffin’ an’ stuffin’ it up there till I gotted
it all packed inside! “Then, I gotted kinda scared ‘cuz I couldn’t get it out. My fingers is too fat to
wiggle all the way up there. An’ what if it gotted stucked to a big booger? Sometimes boogers is stickier
than glue. Is Dr. Ferris gonna have to take off my
nose, Moms?” Bobby began wailing again at the thought. Helen tried to
remain calm. She wondered if Bobby needed to go to the emergency room. Where is Brian when you need him? she
thought to herself. “Let me try
something, Bobby,” she soothed in a calm voice. She hurriedly found a tissue.
“Hold this under your nose, sweetheart.” Thankfully, Bobby
obeyed, and she massaged his nose. “Gently blow while I rub,” she commanded.
After several minutes of rubbing and blowing, a long string finally shot out
onto the tissue, dripping with mucus. Helen sighed in relief. “You did it,
Moms!” Bobby happily exclaimed. “Oh, thank you, thank you! I thoughted Dr. Ferris was gonna hafta stick a clothes hanger up my nose and ‘trieve out that ol’ string!” “Well, I have a
lot of things left to do, sweetheart. Why don’t you go upstairs and play
quietly?” she suggested. “Okey dokey, Moms!” Bobby
scurried to the stairs. “Don’t stick
anything up your nose! Or in your ears!” Helen called. “Oh, I won’t!” he
assured. “I know what it feels like now, so I won’t hafta
do it ever again!” And in typical Bobby horrorcane style, he flew up
the stairs. Helen rubbed her
temples. She felt the oncoming of a monster migraine. She looked at her watch
and saw that it was a few minutes after An hour later… The ringing of
the telephone interrupted Helen, just as she was putting the finishing
touches on the first centerpiece she had completed that day. “Hello. Belden
residence.” “Hey, baby! How’s
your day going?” She smiled at the husky voice of her husband. “Much better, now
that you’ve called,” she answered with a smile. “Is Bobby behaving
himself?” “Does he ever?”
Helen teased wryly. “What did he do
now?” “I cringe just thinking
what he’s up to at this very moment, but an hour ago, I had to fish a kite
string out of his nose.” Peter burst out
laughing. “Why did he put a kite string up his nose?” “We’re talking
about Bobby, sweetheart,” Helen reminded him with a giggle. “He probably put
the string up his nose for the same reason he super-glued his fingers
together last week. He wanted to know what it felt like.” “Gee, another
curious kid. That inquisitive Johnson gene gets us every time.” Helen cleared her
throat. “If I recall all the stories your mother told me, I believe our
children get their curious gene from your side of the family. Remember the
time you, Harold, and Andr…” “That may be true,” Peter admitted. “Anyway,
I was calling to let you know that I might be a little late this evening. I
have to go over some facts with the bank president before my meeting in the
morning. By the way, did you finish my suit?” As soon as the
words popped out of his mouth, Peter regretted them. He could practically see
the steam from Helen’s ears through the phone receiver. “I’ll get to it
right now, darling,” she replied
ever-so sweetly. “But if I’m going finish everything on my to-do list, I need
to get off the phone and back to work.” “No problem,
babe!” Peter answered cheerfully. “Love you!” “Love you, too,”
Helen said, hanging up the phone. She forsook her arranging and found her
sewing basket as well as her husband’s navy suit. She had already pinned the
cuffs up so that they were the correct length. Soon, she had the pants
expertly hemmed and pressed. I’d better hang this up in our closet so
Bobby doesn’t get jelly on it. Helen climbed the
stairs to their second-floor bedroom, and hung up the suit in the closet. Bobby is being quiet. Too quiet. I wonder
what he’s up to. She shivered at the mere thought. Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough, she decided with a
shrug. She closed the door to her
bedroom and was almost knocked over by a very guilty-looking Bobby, who had
been making a hasty exit from his sister’s room. “What’re you
doing, son? You aren’t messing up Trixie’s room, are you?” Bobby shook his
head, his sandy curls flying back and forth. “You’re not
supposed to go in there without her permission. Remember when you broke
Spotty,” Helen reminded him gently. “I didn’t broked anything, Moms! Honest! I was just lookin’ at Trixie’s diarrhea.” “Trixie’s what?!” Helen exclaimed. “Her diarrhea!” he
insisted. “Did you know that Trixie wrote Jim’s name a whole bunch in her
diarrhea?” “I think you mean
her diary,” she amended with a laugh. “I don’t think Trixie would
like you looking in it. She writes her secrets in there.” Bobby grinned
impishly. “Oh, I won’t tell anyone
Trixie’s see-cruds!” “I’m sure you
won’t,” Helen scoffed. “Why don’t you go play in your room before lunch?” “Okay, Moms!”
Bobby cheerfully bounded to his room, thoughts of Trixie’s “diarrhea”
hopefully miles away. With a weary sigh,
she went back downstairs to finish her centerpieces. It was “Hey, Moms!”
Trixie hollered. “Hello, Mrs.
Belden!” Honey replied in a much more subdued voice. “Boy, you’re doing a
marvelous job with those flower arrangements. They look like something a
professional florist would make!” “Thank you,
Honey,” Helen answered, pleased by the compliment. “They’ve been a lot of
work, but I have to admit that they are
turning out nicely.” “Moms is great at
everything!” Trixie exclaimed, giving her mother a peck on the cheek.
“Including cooking! When will lunch be ready?” Helen looked up in
surprise. “Aren’t you eating lunch with the Wheelers?” Trixie giggled.
“Why, Moms, you’ve been telling us that we’re going to wear out our welcome
there, and that we should bring everyone here to eat more often.” “I told you that
months ago, Trixie,” remarked Helen. “I just thought of
it today,” Trixie stated with a shrug. “And since I wanted to be a good,
obedient daughter, I thought today would be a good time for the whole gang to
meet here for lunch! The boys should be here any minute.” Of course, it would be today that Trixie remembered that! Helen
thought mournfully. “Are you sure it’s
okay, Mrs. Belden?” Honey asked, observing the sorrowful look on Helen’s
face. Honey was, by far, the most tactful member of the Bob-Whites. She was
always quick to think of others. “If
you’re too busy, then maybe Cook could fix us something…” “No, I’m sure I
can throw something together,”
Helen assured her. “The Beldens have been eating the Wheelers out of
house and home lately.” She went to the refrigerator and began searching for
lunch fixings. “I’m hungry,
Moms!” Bobby called as he ran in the room. “When’s lunch?” Spying Honey, he
shrieked in delight. “Yay! Honey’s here! Honey’s
here! Do you have time to read me a book, Honey? I haven’t readed Peter Rabbit in just ages!” Honey smiled and
tousled the little boy’s curls. “Maybe later, Bobby. After lunch, Trixie and
I need to finish asking for donations for the Miller family.” “Can I go with you
to get nodations?” Honey smiled at
his pronunciation. “I’m sorry, Bobby, but we’re riding our bikes much too far
for you to go along. Maybe next time you can come with us.” “Is Jim goin’?” Bobby inquired innocently, glancing at Trixie. “No, lamb,” Honey
answered, her tone patient. “He’s helping Brian with his car. But he’ll be
here later. Why do you ask?” “I was wantin’ to show him his name. Trixie wrote it in her
diarrhea.” Honey’s mouth fell
open for a minute. “W-w-what?” “Robert Harold
Belden!” Trixie shrieked angrily. “What
are you talking about?” Helen put down the
bread she was buttering. “He means your ‘diary’, dear. I told you not to
mention that ever again, Bobby.” “Why did you drawed Jim’s name in your diarrhea with all those little
hearts an’ plus signs an’ junk?” He giggled as Trixie chased him around the
kitchen table. He skillfully dodged her grasp as she pursued him. “Trixie an’
Jim, sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-M-B!” He escaped the confines of the kitchen and
ran up the stairs, his furious sister clipping at his heels. “Honey, can you
make sure Trixie doesn’t do any irreparable damage to her brother?” Helen
asked wearily. “And please ask her to make sure he washes his hands before
lunch.” Honey giggled. “No
problem, Mrs. Belden. It sure is fun around here!” She trotted up the stairs
to break up any fights. Helen sighed and
continued buttering bread for sandwiches. After she finished that, she put a
bowl of homemade vegetable soup in the microwave to heat. This was going to be dinner tonight. I
guess I’ll worry about that later.
The boys came
clambering through the back door just as she put several of the cold grilled
ham and cheese sandwiches in a skillet. “What’s that delectable aroma
permeating the stratosphere?” Mart inquired, sniffing the air. Dan rolled his
eyes. “Gee, Mart, couldn’t you just ask what smells good?” “That would be
much too simple and a dissipation of my obvious aptitude for the Anglo-Saxon
lexicography,” Mart retorted with a grin.
“However, if that is beyond my compeer’s comprehension, I’ll rephrase
it to, ‘What’s cookin’, Moms?’” Helen laughed in
spite of herself. “Grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup. But
first, please go wash your hands. You’re all covered in grease.” “Sorry, Mrs.
Belden,” Jim replied politely. “We’ll be careful not to get black junk all
over the place.” “Where’s Honey?
And Trixie?” Brian hastily added. “Upstairs, getting
Bobby ready for lunch,” Helen reported. “Now scoot to the bathroom and wash
your hands. Lunch will be ready soon.” As soon as the boys
left, the girls returned with Bobby in tow. Honey was stifling a giggle,
Trixie was looking quite pleased with herself, and the impish boy was bound
in handcuffs and gagged with a bandana. “Trixie!” Helen
reprimanded sternly. “Take those handcuffs off him immediately!” “Awww, Moms! I just know he’s going to say something about
you-know-who in my you-know-what! Then I’ll just die!” Helen glared down at her son. “If Trixie
lets you go, not one word about what you read today. Do you understand, young
man?” Bobby enthusiastically nodded his head, his blond curls bobbing up and
down. “Let him go, Trixie.” Trixie sighed
unhappily and dug the key for the handcuffs out of her shorts’ pocket. “If
you say one word, Bobby, you’ll never see Oscar again!” she hissed as she
unlocked him. His blue eyes grew large as saucers. “It’s our
see-crud!” he blurted, as soon as the bandana was gone. “Golly, Moms! Trixie
almost drownded me washing me up! I couldn’t even
fight back ‘cuz I was all chainded
up!” Helen smiled, secretly thinking
that maybe Trixie was onto something. Helen placed the
platter of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches onto the table. Honey quickly
removed the vegetable soup from the microwave and carried it to the table.
Trixie hurriedly grabbed cans of soda out of the refrigerator, just as the
boys came in the room. Trixie flushed at the sight of her brother’s
red-haired best friend. Helen noticed that Honey fluffed her honey hair at
the sight of Brian. “I’m telling you,
Brian, it would work,” Mart whispered excitedly. “After we get your car all
painted and looking good, we’ll put a dual exhaust on it. And, I bet if we add a pint of Mr.
Maypenny’s homebrewed whiskey to the gas, she’d go ten miles-per-hour faster!” “Aw, Mart, that
doesn’t really work!” Brian argued, taking a seat at the table beside Honey. “Yeah, that only
works in cartoons,” Jim laughed. He nonchalantly pushed Dan away from the
seat beside Trixie and sat there himself. Dan chuckled
good-naturedly. “I don’t know. You all have never smelled Mr. Maypenny’s
moonshine. You could use it to take the tarnish off of silver.” “Then it’s not
getting anywhere near my jalopy. She’s been through enough!” Brian glared
over at his sister. Trixie snorted.
“Gee, Bri. I just don’t understand why you’d want
to repaint your car after all that hard work we did on it. I, for one, think
the old jalopy looks marvelous!” “Perfectly
perfect!” Honey added with a giggle. “Well, this food’s
getting cold,” Helen chided. “Brian, will you please ask the blessing.” As
soon as the word “Amen” was uttered, the table returned to its previous state
of chaos. “What have you
lazy squaws been up to today while we men labored on Brian’s automobile?”
Mart asked between bites of sandwich. “We’ve been biking
to all the neighbors’ houses, asking for donations for the Miller family,”
Honey explained. “So far, a lot of people have promised to give them money or
some extra clothing. It was so awful about the fire.” “It’s a nice thing
you girls are doing. I know it would’ve been easier if I could’ve driven you
around in the Bob-White station wagon, but I had already promised to help
Brian,” Jim said. “You sure are swell, though, going to all this trouble for
the Millers.” Trixie blushed to
the roots of her sandy hair. “Gee, thanks, Jim!” she gushed. “We don’t mind
riding our bikes at all.” “And I dare say
that my xanthous-haired sibling can surely use the
physical exertion to rid her anatomy of unwanted calories,” Mart taunted.
Trixie smiled sweetly as she kicked him under the table. “You’re just
grouchy because Di had to go to Mart scowled at
his sister, ignoring Dan’s snickering beside him. “How are your
flowers coming, Moms?” Brian asked thoughtfully. “All right,” Helen
answered, “if I can get them
finished, that is. I’ve had several interruptions today.” She nonchalantly
nodded at Bobby. “Do you think Regan might be up for some company later?” “He loves
visitors, but he’s out of town today,” Dan offered. “He went to look at a new
horse that Mr. Wheeler is thinking about buying.” “I just ‘dore Regan!” Bobby piped up, bits of sandwich falling out
of his mouth. “And Regan just ‘dores me! I wish I coulda goed with him to look at
the new horse.” Me too! Helen thought glumly. “This sure is good
soup!” Jim complimented. “It’s just as good as Mr. Maypenny’s hunter’s stew.” “Yes, we love
coming here for one of your meals, Mrs. Belden,” Honey told Helen, smiling. “Your
food is always so yummy!” “Too bad Di had to
miss it,” Mart muttered under his breath. His feelings for the violet-eyed
beauty were renowned. “How’s the work on
your car going, Brian?” Honey shyly asked. “Pretty good. Tom
helped us remove the chrome bumpers, and we’re busy sanding off all the old
paint and the rust spots.” “That should only
take a month or three,” Trixie muttered under her breath. “Tom sure is a
great guy for helping us out like this,” Jim said quickly. “He knows all about
refinishing cars. We couldn’t do this without his help.” Trixie tossed her
sandy curls. “Well, Honey, Di, and I painted it all by ourselves, and we didn’t need any help,” she said
with a sniff. “Yes, but this
time Brian wants his car to actually look good,” Dan replied with a grin. “I thought it looked perfectly
perfect!” Honey giggled. “Poor Di used
every last bit of her new lavender fingernail polish on those little flowers,
and you’re just going to paint all over her masterpiece!” Trixie sighed in
exasperation, and was rewarded with a cringe from Brian. “So that’s why it
was so hard to get off those little pansies,” he marveled. “Hey, Brian, after
you getted your car all done, can I paint some more
labender flowers on it?” Bobby asked pitifully. Brian looked
horrified. He was obviously imagining his littlest brother adding his own
“special” touches to the jalopy. “No, Bobby. Real men don’t want purple flowers and happy faces all over their
vehicle.” Trixie
snickered. “At least Jerry Vanderhoef and Bill Wright got to see our handiwork
outside of the video store before you parked it! I think they may have even
taken a picture to put in your college yearbook!” “Jerry and Bill
don’t go to the university with me,” Brian corrected brusquely. “Those morons
couldn’t get into clown college, much less Harvard.” “Maybe they’ll
just put it in the Sleepyside Sun then instead!” Honey teased. “With the
caption, The Bob-White males, out
cruising in their new wheels, rent the chick flick ‘A Perplexing Existence.’ ”
“If I never see ‘A Perplexing Existence’
again, it’ll be too soon,” Dan added with a groan. “I hate Ewan McGregor,” Jim muttered. “And Tom Welling,”
Brian added, unhappily. “Don’t forget
Matthew McConaughey,” Mart mumbled. “Oh, I liked that movie!”
Helen exclaimed. “Pierce Brosnan was so good as the
father!” Honey sighed dreamily in agreement. Jim looked at his
watch. “I hate to eat and run, Mrs. Belden, but we need to get back to the
garage. Tom will be waiting for us.” “Gleeps! Is it “Gosh, Moms! We’ve
got to go! We still have a lot of sanding to finish today!” Brian quickly
kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thanks for lunch,
Mrs. B.! I always like coming over.” Dan, with an impish grin, copied Brian’s
actions and kissed her cheek as well. “You boys are
welcome any time,” Helen told them, smiling. Just please don’t come for dinner tonight! “Hey, Trix, maybe
later I can take you and Honey around to pick up some of those donations,”
Jim offered, tugging on his favorite curl. Trixie batted her
wide blue eyes, just like Di had taught her. “That’d be wonderful, Jim.” She
saw her almost-twin open his mouth, but she kicked him under the table again.
“Ouch!” Dan
exclaimed. “Watch where you’re kicking, Trixie!” Mart snickered. “I
am much too perspicacious to be trifled with, dear Beatrix!
Now, you lazy squaws can assist with the lustrating of the kitchen while we
men folk retire to the Wheelers’ automotive abode!... Ouch!” This time, Trixie’s foot hit her
intended target. “Guys, we’d better
get going,” Brian ordered, making his way to the door. “Yes, sir!” Mart
gave a mock salute, then he and Dan marched out the back door. Jim carried his
plate and utensils to the sink and started to help clear the table. “Thank you for
helping, Jim, but you go along with the rest of the boys,” Helen insisted. “Okay, Mrs.
Belden,” he reluctantly agreed. “Thanks again for lunch. See ya’ Trix!” And after a quick fond glance, he was on his
way. “Hmph! Not even a wave to his full-blooded adopted
sister!” Honey pouted, pretending to have her feelings hurt. “I think his
mind was on someone else.” Trixie shot her
best friend a warning glance. Everyone knew that the sandy blonde had special
feelings for the supple redhead, but it was not something that she liked to
discuss. Trixie and Honey
carried the plates to the sink. Trixie glanced out the window by the sink. “Gleeps, Moms! It
looks like it’s going to rain after all! Honey and I had better hurry, if
we’re going to finish asking for donations!” She looked pleadingly at her
mother. Helen sighed
wearily. “I suppose you’re excused from the lunch dishes, dear.” Trixie threw her
arms around her mother. “You’re the greatest, Moms! I promise to dust every
inch of the house tomorrow!” Helen only
smiled. She had heard those same words many, many times before. She had yet
to see her daughter attack every inch of Crabapple Farm with Pledge and a
dust cloth. “Thanks for lunch,
Mrs. Belden,” Honey said politely. “You sure put our cooks to shame.” “You’re welcome
any time, Honey,” Helen hugged her daughter’s best friend. “C’mon, Honey!
We’d better get on the road!” Trixie was practically ready to explode from
excitement. She and Honey flew out of the house, leaving Helen a mound of
dishes to wash. “I’ll holp you, Moms!” Bobby exclaimed cheerfully. “Thank you, Bobby, but I’ll take care of it
myself,” Helen answered, remembering that her serving set was lacking six
plates thanks to his “holp” after breakfast. “Why don’t you bring your coloring books
and crayons down to the kitchen? You can keep me company while I tidy up?” Bobby ran
excitedly to his bedroom and retrieved his art supplies. He sat down at the
kitchen table and happily colored and chattered while his mother cleaned. A
half hour later, Helen finished washing and drying the last dish. “How are
you doing, sweetheart?” She peeked at his work. “See my picture,
Moms! Didn’t I do a good job on Spiderman?” Helen smiled
weakly. Bobby certainly had colored
well; however, he did not limit his artwork to the paper. He had accidentally
gotten crayon all over her antique maple table. “Sorry, Moms. I actually did it,” he admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. “I understand. I should’ve put newspaper
under your coloring book.” Helen plastered a fake smile on her face. “Gee, I
think it’s about your naptime, Bobby.” “Can I go upstairs
and brush my teeth first? The dentist sayed you
should brush your teeth after ev’ry meal. They even
say that on all those commercials. The ‘merican Denal ‘sociation sayed so too.” Bobby was infamous for finding a million
excuses to delay his nap. “All right, but
hurry up. You have five minutes.” Bobby raced out of
the kitchen and climbed the stairs, clomping loudly. Helen picked up his
coloring book and crayons. She sprayed some orange cleaner on the table and
prayed it would remove the red and blue streaks. “Holp, Moms! Holp! Holp me!” Bobby wailed, running into the room. “My tongue
burnded off, Moms! Holp
me!” Helen looked up in
alarm. “Did you use your brothers and sister’s toothpaste again?” Bobby had
his own special toothpaste, finding the grownup toothpaste too hot for his
taste. “I didn’t go in
our bathroom!” Bobby cried. “The boys gotted grease
all over the sink, an’ I didn’t wanna get in it!” Helen sighed at
the thought of cleaning up yet another mess. “Did you brush your teeth in my
bathroom, Bobby?” He nodded, tears
still flowing. He frantically rubbed his tongue with his fingers, trying to
scrape off the yucky taste in his mouth. “You’re making an
awful big fuss over hot toothpaste,” Helen chided. “It burnses awful, Moms!” Bobby insisted. “I feel like my
tongue is gonna rotted off!” Helen raised a
sandy eyebrow and took him upstairs. When she went in the bathroom, she saw
Bobby’s toothbrush and a white tube on the counter. Surely he didn’t brush his teeth with that! she thought, reading Monistat
7 on the tube. She picked it up with a shaking hand. “Is this what
you brushed your teeth with, Bobby?” He sobbed and
nodded his head in affirmation. “That’s not very good toothpaste, Moms!” Helen raced into
her bedroom and picked up the phone. She quickly dialed the After the man at
the Helen angrily hung
up the phone, still trying to calm Bobby’s cries. She followed the man’s
advice, and when it didn’t stop the burning, she tucked Bobby on the couch
with a Popsicle. “Don’t get it on the sofa,” she warned. “I don’t have time
right now to read Peter Rabbit to you, so why don’t you pick out a movie to
watch.” Bobby decided upon
“Home Alone” and snuggled on the couch with his Popsicle. His eyes were
growing heavy, and she knew he would fall asleep soon. After kissing him on
the forehead, she went back to the kitchen to finish her centerpieces. Helen looked at
her watch. It was after Two hours later… Helen sneaked into
the den and peered at her youngest child, curled up asleep on the couch. She
turned off the television and tiptoed out of the room. Bobby sure is a little angel, she thought, when he’s asleep! When he’s awake, he can be a regular little devil! She sat back at the kitchen table appraising
the centerpiece she had just completed. I
might make my deadline after all, she thought. She jumped as the
back screen door slammed shut. “Moms!
Are you in here?” Trixie called loudly. “Shhh!” Helen whispered. “Your brother’s asleep in the
den. I don’t want you to wake him.” “Gleeps! Why’s he asleep in there for? Did the little pyro finally
blow up?” Helen looked up in
exasperation. “Bobby had a traumatic experience after lunch, so I laid him on
the sofa to watch a movie. He fell asleep half an hour ago.” “What happened to
him?” The worried look on Trixie’s face showed she was truly concerned about
her little brother. “Bobby wanted to
brush his teeth before his nap, but he accidentally used Monistat 7 instead
of toothpaste,” Helen explained. “He brushed his teeth with yeast infection
cream?!” Trixie hooted. “That’s worse than the time Mart thought the
laundry detergent was Fun Dip!” She rolled dropped on the floor laughing. “Shhh!” Helen hissed. However, it was too late. A sleepy
Bobby stumbled into the kitchen. “What’s all the
racket?” he mumbled, a grouchy look on his face. “Nothing,” Helen
replied, looking sternly at her daughter. “Why don’t you go lay back down,
Bobby?” He shook his head.
“I don’t wanna. I wanna
stay up an’ play with Trixie.” “That sounds like
a wonderful idea!” Helen exclaimed happily. “I can’t, Moms!”
Trixie cried. “I just came back to tell you that Jim’s going to take me and
Honey around to pick up some clothing the neighbors donated for the Millers.
I just wanted to let you know that I might be late for dinner.” Helen rubbed her
temples. “I suppose you can, Trixie, but you’d better make plans to watch
Bobby tomorrow evening while your father and I attend the Garden Club
banquet.” “I will, Moms!
Thanks!” Trixie raced out the back door, the slamming noise making Helen’s
head explode. Bobby stomped his
foot and began crying. “I wanna go, too! I never getta do anything fun! It’s no fair!” “Bobby, you go
outside and play while I finish up here. Maybe your brothers and sister will
take you to the Wheelers’ later and see if Regan bought that new horse. If
you’re good, that is,” Helen hastily added. Bobby thought for
a moment, and then bobbed his head in agreement. “Okey
dokey, Moms. I just ‘dore
Regan. Maybe he’ll gimme a ride while I’m there. Or
maybe he’ll play with me. I wonder if he has any new tissue paper.” He ran
outside, excited about seeing the red-haired groom. Why on earth did Regan have that red
tissue paper there to begin with? Helen wondered. She shook her head, and
once again turned to her centerpieces. An hour later… Helen flexed her
tired fingers. Success at last! And not
a minute too soon, she thought as Bobby ran into the house. “Jeepers, Moms!
It’s rainin’ bats and frogs out there!” Bobby shook
the water from his blond hair to emphasize his point. His clothes were soaked
and covered in mud. His shoes made a squeak,
squeak sound, which he apparently found delightful, considering he danced
around to make them squeak more. “Bobby, I need to
take these flowers to the community building. Since your brothers and sister
aren’t here, I’ll need to take you with me. Why don’t you run upstairs and
change?” Bobby looked up
from watching his shoes. “Sure, Moms!” He skidded out of the kitchen, leaving
muddy tracks behind him. Helen once again
sighed. Oh, goody. More mopping when I
get home. But right now I need to change my clothes. She went upstairs
and changed into a nice, lightweight pants suit. She wanted to look her best,
in case any of the other ladies from the Garden Club were there. Fifteen minutes
later, she and Bobby were pulling out of the driveway at Crabapple Farm. They
were on “What happened?”
Helen gasped. She leaned her head against the seat, taking a moment to regain
her composure. “Neat-O, Moms!”
Bobby yelled. “Who teached you to drive like that?” “Stay here, Bobby,”
she commanded, ignoring his question. “I’m going outside to see how badly the
car is damaged.” Helen opened the
car door. Rain stung her face as it poured down. She shielded her eyes and
surveyed the car. The damage wasn’t too bad. The right fender was dented a
little, but it was not as bad as she had feared. Then she spied the cause of
her accident. Both the right and the left front tires had blown out. “What in the
world!” she exclaimed, bending over to examine the left tire. She found
several large nails in the tread. She
found the same thing when she studied the right one. By this time, she was
soaked, and her lovely tan suit had splotches of mud all over it. Helen opened the
back door of the station wagon. “Come on, Bobby. We have a long walk home.” Bobby unlatched
his seat belt and clambered out of the car. “Oh goody, Moms! Do we getta walk all the way home in the rain?” “I’m afraid so,”
she said, her excitement not quite matching Bobby’s. “Yippee! This is
my lucky day!” Bobby gleefully hopped in a large mud puddle. The mud splashed
up and splattered on Helen’s face. “Sorry, Moms!” he replied cheerfully. Helen gritted her
teeth and continued walking. There was no need to fuss about the mud. Her
suit was already ruined, and she was drenched. Home was over a mile away.
Then she would need to call Brian and have him take her and the flowers to
the community building. She would most definitely be late now. “Golly, Moms! This
is the mostest fun I’ve had all day!” Bobby blurted
out. “I’m sure glad you gotted stuck in that ditch!
You never crash up the cars. You’re the carefulest
driver in the whole world. Why’d ya wreck, Moms?” “I ran over some
nails, Bobby, and they made my tires have a blowout, which made me lose
control of the vehicle,” Helen patiently explained, wiping the rain from her
face. “Was they big
nails like Dad used when he fixded the porch?” Helen stopped
walking. “Yes. Why do you ask, Bobby?” Immediately, Bobby
began jumping up and down and shouting for joy. “It workded!
It workded!” She counted to ten
as calmly as possible. “What worked, son?” “My plan to catch
the bad guys!” Bobby exclaimed in excitement. “Just like Kevin ‘allister!” Helen’s mouth fell
open. “What did you do, Bobby?” she asked slowly. “I was watchin’ that movie an’ gotted
worried about all the bad guys Trixe caughted. I was scared they might come back. Some of them
guys stealed things, an’ I was scared they might
steal Trixie. So I setted a trap for ‘em!” Bobby bounded in a particularly large puddle,
splashing mud all around him. “An’ it workded! It
really workded, Moms!” At this point,
Helen did not know whether to laugh or to cry. “It sure did,” she replied
grimly. “The only problem is that I’m not a bad guy.” Bobby looked
serious. “That’s true. I guess I’ll have to put those nails in the driveway
all over again. Boy, it sure tooked a long time to
get ‘em all to stand up like that with the pointy
thing up.” Noticing the annoyed look on his mother’s face, he tugged on her
sleeve. “I thoughted it would be a good idea. I’m
sorry I actually did it now, Moms.” She smiled against
her will. “You did it accidentally?” She raised her eyebrows in skepticism. “No, I did it on
purpose. I said actually not actually.” Helen walked
briskly and quietly the rest of the way home. She did not want to say
anything to her son that she would regret after she cooled down. She also
worried that someone else would get a flat tire in their driveway. At least the rain has stopped, she
thought to herself grimly. Fortunately, she
met the Bob-White station wagon right as it was getting ready to pull in the
driveway at Crabapple Farm. Jim pulled
the car right by Helen and rolled down the driver’s side window. “Are you okay,
Mrs. Belden?” Jim asked. “Gleeps, Moms! You look awful!” Trixie blurted from the
front seat, beside Jim. Helen glared at
her daughter. “I had a blowout over a mile away down the road, and had to
walk back here. Actually, I had two
blowouts.” “How did you have
two blowouts, Mrs. B.? That seems like a big coincidence,” Dan remarked. “It seems somebody (here she glared at Bobby)
put nails in the driveway to catch bad guys. I ran over several of them. The
front tires blew out, and I wrecked in a ditch.” Trixie started giggling
at the explanation, until Honey whacked the back of her head from the
backseat. “So Jim, I
wouldn’t pull the Bob-White station wagon in the driveway until all the nails
have been picked up,” Helen continued wearily. “Now I need to get changed so
someone can drive me to the community building.” “Mrs. Belden,
you’re soaked to the bone!” Honey cried sympathetically. “Why don’t you let
us take your arrangements to the community building?” “Yeah, Moms,”
Brian agreed from the backseat, beside Honey. “You really need to take a warm
bath. Let us take care of that while you go in the house.” Helen shook her
head. “I need to help set up the tables. I n-need to be there,” she said, her
teeth chattering. “Brian’s right,
Mrs. Belden,” Jim insisted. “The Bob-Whites will handle everything for you.” “And I’ll take
Master Belden to search for the superfluous objects which perforated the
rubber annuluses encompassing the wheels,” Mart graciously offered, although
nobody could quite understand him. He got out of the front seat and took
Bobby by the hand, leading him to the driveway. “Thank you, kids!”
Helen told them. “I really appreciate this.” “It’s no problem, Mrs.B.!” Dan exclaimed. “You’ve sure done a lot for us!
It’s our turn to help you out.” Helen tossed the
Beldens’ station wagon keys to Brian so he could retrieve the arrangements.
She gave them some last minute instructions. As they pulled out, Helen
noticed that although Mart had left the front seat, Trixie hadn’t scooted
over. She was still sitting close to Jim. Helen smiled and hurried to the
house. Helen starting
stripping off her wet clothes as soon as she hit the stairs leading to her
bedroom. A warm bath will certainly
feel good. Two hours later… The gentle strains
of “As Time Goes By” woke Helen up from her nap. After her bath, she had lain
on the bed just for a minute, and had fallen asleep. When she opened her
eyes, she saw her handsome husband lighting candles around the bedroom. “Peter!” she
exclaimed joyfully. “Hey, baby,” he
said, cuddling next to her on the bed. “Did you have a rough day?” Tears fell down
Helen’s cheeks. “You have no idea!” Peter gently wiped
her tears with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry you had a bad day, hon.” “It’s better now
that you’re here,” Helen whispered. “Candlelight and Barbra Streisand? What’s
the occasion?” “The occasion is
that I have a wonderful wife who needs some special treatment,” Peter
answered, kissing her softly. “The kids…” “The kids are
fine,” he interrupted. “Brian and Trixie helped the others set up the tables
in the community building. I stopped by there on my way home to see how it
looked, and they were there working. They told me everything.” “What about…” “Mart and Bobby
finished picking up all the nails. Then Mart took Bobby up to the Manor House
to visit Regan. After the others get back, all the BWGs
are taking the little monster to see a movie. A late movie,” he added with a waggle of his dark brows. Helen arched a
sandy brow at him. “And what about dinner for us?” Peter pulled a
picnic basket onto the bed. “I picked up a few things on my way home. I was
planning something special anyway. I just didn’t know at the time how well it
would work out.” He looked tenderly at his wife. “Just pretend we’re by some
bluffs, overlooking a beautiful waterfall.” Helen sighed in
contentment. “I love you, Peter Belden!” “And I love you,
Helen Johnson Belden,” Peter said as he stroked her blonde curls. “I tell you
that every day, but I don’t show
you often enough.” He gently raised her
head to his and kissed her. “And this isn’t all. I have another surprise.” “Really? I’ll just
die if you don’t tell me what it
is!” she giggled, mocking her daughter. “I’ve made
arrangements for us to go away for your birthday. It’s all taken care of.
Anyplace that you want to go is fine.” He grinned at her. “As long as we can
be there and back in a few days.” Helen threw her
arms around her husband. “Oh, Peter! That sounds perfect.” “After the day
you’ve had, you deserve it,” he said adamantly. “Did Bobby really brush his
teeth with Monistat cream?” Helen covered her
face with her hands, laughing. “Yes! And then there was also Trixie’s
diarrhea, broken dishes, two blowouts…” Peter interrupted
her with another kiss. “Umm, Helen, the kids are gone.” He began kissing her
neck. “Why Peter, it
isn’t even Friday night!” “Contrary to what
our kids think, when have we ever waited until Friday night?” Peter
whispered, loosening her robe.
This was
SEA #4. The required elements were any song from the fourth anniversary song
list (“As Time Goes By” sung by Barbra Streisand), a grand high pooh-bah
named Mark (Mark Cox at the bank), a yearbook (Trixie’s teasing about where
Jerry and Bill will post a pic of the Pink
Panther), a gift of fruit (the gift of appreciation for the Garden Club
president), whiskey (Mart’s suggestion to increase the jalopy’s speed),
cliffs or bluffs (Peter’s imaginary picnic site), a made-up word (scrog), a celebration lasting two weeks (the 50th
anniversary of the bank), someone procrastinating (Brian refinishing his
jalopy), and a literary quote by someone other than Mart (Trixie’s Mark Twain
quote). A big thank
you to my editor, Kathy W! You were a big help again, as always! Your advice
about refinishing cars was very helpful! *bear hugs* My “baby”
brother, who is now a strapping Navy man, confused his “actually” and
“accidentally” when he was a little boy. I had a lot of fun at his expense.
He shaved one of our dog’s head, except he colored it blue. And he tried that
“Home Alone” trick and blew out someone’s tire. J Now, he looks exactly how I picture a 20- year-old Bobby. Blond
curls, stocky, and china blue eyes. Quite the lady killer! My lovely
daughter actually confused the words “diarrhea” and “diary”. She also stuck a
string up her nose. Our conversation perfectly mirrored Moms and Bobby’s.
She’s absolutely mortified that I told that.
She’s a sophisticated lady of nine, and she would never do those kinds
of things now. After all, she did that stuff three whole years ago! J And yes, I
knew somebody that had a nephew who used Monistat 7 as toothpaste. And no,
it’s not fatal. I don’t remember what the PCC guy said, but I do remember
that he laughed his butt off. And of course, Monistat 7 was not used with
permission, so I’ll put a plug in for them. If you get a yeast infection, buy
some! If you need to brush your teeth, buy Colgate! J |
Author’s
note:
