Affectionately dedicated to all my fellow housewives!

A sequel to "Boys Will Be Boys"

by AprilW

 

Helen Belden jumped as her alarm clock buzzed. She groaned as she reached over to her nightstand and turned it off. Just five more minutes, she thought. 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 she still needed to accomplish the following day.

Twenty minutes later, she looked at the clock and jumped up in alarm. 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 got 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 used the scentless soap, preferred by the male members of the family. She quickly added shampoo to her thick curls and rubbed the lather on her legs. I’ll use this to shave my legs. That’ll save a few minutes. She grazed the razor over her legs, ignoring the stinging. She hurriedly rinsed and dried off.

As Helen was drying her legs, she noticed countless nicks. This is nice. Now I’ll have to wear dark hose to the banquet tomorrow night. I look like Bobby after he "capsized" the Lynch’s cat. She quickly dressed and dried her hair. Make-up would have to come later. She made sure that her husband was awake, and then she practically ran to the kitchen to begin breakfast. As luck would have it, her youngest son, Bobby, was already wide awake and therefore, into trouble. He was sitting at the 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. He did not seem concerned at all about the mess at 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 out it 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 hadn’t 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 and see if Trixie falls in it too!"

Helen got to her feet. Her backside throbbed and her clothes were wet with juice. She got 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. He left little orange tracks through the kitchen. Helen rolled her eyes and once more mopped the floor.

After Helen 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 after 7:00, she threw on her apron and began peeling and cutting up potatoes. This would be the morning that I promised Peter a big breakfast, Helen thought mournfully. She threw the potatoes in a big skillet with oil and added salt and pepper. She put the lid on the big skillet and began to fry some sausage.

Helen’s quiet moment ended abruptly as she heard clambering down the stairs.

"Is not!" her only daughter yelled.

"It is too!" her almost twin hollered back.

"Is not!" Trixie bounded 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. 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. 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 orange juice out of the refrigerator and pouring herself a big glass.

"Because Bobby tried to pour 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 to stir the potatoes. "I overslept this morning and am running late, so I haven’t had a chance to change my clothes." She put the lid back on but touched the skillet with her finger. "Ouch!" She hurried to the sink and ran cold water over her finger.

Brian, the future M.D., ran to get some ointment. "Let me put some of this on you, Moms." He rubbed a little ointment on the 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 sausage, which 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 the bread to her middle son. "Start making toast." Thank goodness she missed the crest fallen look on Mart’s face!

"I’ll set the table for you, Moms," Trixie offered. Quickly, she had the plate mats on the 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 some eggs out. She knew her husband would want scrambled eggs. Suddenly, Reddy bounded in the kitchen. The big Irish setter got tangled up in Helen’s feet and soon they both crashed to the floor, covered in egg yolk.

Bobby, followed by Brian, ran into the kitchen. "Good! You caughted him, Moms!" Bobby blurted.

Helen sat in the floor, dripping in yellow goo, too stunned to say a word. Trixie, however, was rarely at a loss for words. "Robert Belden! What were you doing to poor Reddy?" she yelled at her youngest sibling.

Helen fearfully looked at the big dog that was in her lap. Only then did she notice the large bald spot on Reddy’s head. The 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 Moms to her feet. Helen looked at the floor, which once more needed mopped. "So what happened, Bobby?" she asked as calmly as possible.

"Well, I went 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’, and that gum just hoppded outta my mouth and 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 and shaveded his head, just like Daddy shaves his beard off in the morning."

"Oh, Bobby," Helen protested. "You should never play with razors! You could hurt yourself!"

"I was all right, Moms!" Bobby proudly told her. "But then I seed that Reddy looked kinda funny with that big bald spot on 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, don’t they?" Bobby paused momentarily and noticed 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, and Reddy ran 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 up 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 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.

"It means 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." She passed her husband in the hallway. He started to kiss her good morning, but seeing the gooey residue on her apron, he changed his mind. "Everything all right, hon?" he asked, straightening his tie.

"Just peachy," Helen mumbled, heading up the stairs. She tripped on a toy left on one of the steps, but 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 at the table. 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 they were sitting at their places. Mr. Belden was smiling and waiting for her so he could ask the blessing on the food. Once she was settled, he prayed and then 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 flung the plate of toast at him. He smiled contritely and helped himself to a piece. "Mmmm! Good toast," he exclaimed, 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 they 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 and…"

"It looks like it will be a most splendiferous day!" Mart exclaimed.

"I don’t think we’ll get that rain that was predicted," Brian added.

"Does "scrog" mean rain?" Bobby asked, scratching his head with his fork.

"I haven’t heard that word either, Bobby," Peter remarked, studying his oldest sons. "Where did you hear it?"

Bobby wiped his 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 ‘cause 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!

"I thoughted Reddy was hurtin’ the girl dog, so I runned over to them, but Brian and Mart said to leave them alone. They started laughin’ and whisperin’, but I hearded them anyways. They said there must be sumpin ‘bout Fridays ‘cause everybody liked to "scrog" that night. So, what’s it mean?"

You could hear birds chirping in China at the Belden’s breakfast table. Peter and Helen sat there in horrified silence. Brian and Mart were frozen, waiting for the hammer to fall. Trixie covered her mouth with her hand, trying her best to stifle a giggle. Bobby, unaware of the tension in the room, picked his nose, wiped something on his shirt, then picked up a piece of toast to eat.

"So, what’s everyone doing today?" Peter asked in an overly cheerful voice, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I’m starting 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 in refinishing his old jalopy. As an added incentive to make him begin the job, 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 hadn’t found the time to begin the monumental task. Instead, he parked the "Pink Panther", as Trixie called it, in front of the house and refused to drive it.

"That’s good news!" Peter exclaimed. "You’ve been procrastinating long enough. Although I knew you’d get to it soon enough. 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 sophmore in college at the age of 18. He attended college with his best friend, Jim Frayne. Mart, 16, would be a junior at Sleepyside. He and his best friend, Dan Mangan, were in the same grade. Trixie was going to be a sophmore this year. At 15, she was the same age as her best friends, Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch. Bobby, a precocious six-year old, miraculously never seemed to age, only get more ornery as the years passed. He would be in first grade, much to dismay of the first grade teacher at Sleepyside Elementary School.

"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 center pieces finished by this evening, so they can decorate in the morning. I still have to make a fruit basket that will be given to the club president. Then I need to drive to the community building and take everything there and start helping set 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 today."

"But Moms, I need to spend the whole day 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 start of the fall term, I need to get started today! It’s going to take about two weeks to finish."

"I guess you are excused from Bobby duty. Like your father said, you’ve procrastinated long enough. I’m sure I’ll have enough help with…"

"Much 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. "I already told Honey that we would ride our bikes to all the neighbors today and ask for donations for that family whose house burned. It’s really important and 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 will 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 lotsa junk about flowers and 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 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 read, Mr. Smarty Pants!"

"I’m a smarty pants! Mart said I was an ig-nor-a-mus!" Bobby exclaimed proudly.

Peter’s moustache twitched. "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 my youngest sibling."

"Well, we don’t have time for you to sit here and "ponder" about it," Brian said, getting up from the table. "It’s 8:30, and we’re supposed to meet Tom at the Manor House in a few minutes. We got to go."

Mart stuffed the last of his potatoes in his mouth. Spying some 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. "I didn’t realize how late it was! I was supposed to meet Honey fifteen minutes ago!" She jumped up and ran out the backdoor in typical Trixie fashion.

"I 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 was out the front door, getting in his car.

Helen looked at the mess on the table, counters, stove, and sink. 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. Bobby had tripped on his untied shoelaces and broken all the plates.

"Good heavens!" Helen exclaimed. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" She helped her son up, carefully avoiding 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 Bobby spoke of. Not only was the floor covered with ceramic pieces and bits of food, it also had big splotches of dark, red ketchup that Mart and Bobby insisted complemented any type of food.

"Go out 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 Bobby 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 and attractively arranged fruit 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. Not bad, she thought, gratified at her work.

Helen checked that item off her mental check list and proceeded to lay out the supplies she would need to finish her center pieces. She completed three last night. Only three to go, she thought mournfully. Her fingers were still sore from sticking the artificial flowers in the Styrofoam base in the decorative vase. Why did I volunteer to do all these? she wondered. 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?"

Helen nodded her head. "Yes, son. I need to get these finished by this afternoon," she replied. "Do you need something?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nope. I was just wonderin’ sumpin."

Helen looked up from the center piece 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?"

Mrs. Belden stifled a giggle as 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?" Bobby persisted.

"I don’t know. I’ve never stuck anything up my nose." Helen 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.

Assuming Bobby had gotten the answer he wanted, Helen picked up a flower and resumed her task.

A few minutes later, Bobby said, "Hey, Moms. Just pretend you stuck 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 carefully 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), she commented, "I don’t know. What exactly did I pretend to stick up my nose?"

"Oh, I don’t know," Bobby casually answered, swinging his legs. "Maybe sumpin’ like a…a string."

"Sweetheart, Moms is really busy today. I don’t have time to play guessing games," Helen replied in an exasperated tone. "I don’t know what a string would feel like up your nose. Maybe you can ask Brian when he gets home."

"Okay, Moms." 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?" Bobby whispered, his voice sounding a little shaky.

Helen slammed her decorative bird down on the table. "What did you do, Robert Belden?" she demanded.

"It feels like there is a string up my nose!" Bobby wailed, bursting into tears.

"Why would it feel like there is string up your nose?" Mrs. Belden insisted.

""Cause it does!"

"Bobby, how would a string get up your nose?"

"Maybe I actually stucked it up there!" Bobby cried, large tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

Helen hurried to get the flashlight and once again peered up her youngest son’s nostrils. "I don’t see anything up there, Bobby. Are you sure you stuck a string up your nose?"

Bobby nodded. "I jus’ wanted to see what it would feel like," he tearfully explained. "I founded an old string from my kite and wondered if I could fit it all up my nose. So I jus’ keeped stuffin’ and stuffin’ it up there till I got it all!

"Then I gotted kinda scared ‘cause I couldn’t get it out. My fingers are too fat to get up there. Is Dr. Ferris gonna have to take off my nose, Moms?" Bobby began wailing again at the thought.

Helen tried to remain calm. She herself had 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."

Bobby obeyed, and Helen rubbed his nose. "Gently blow while I rub," she commanded. After several minutes of rubbing and blowing, a long string finally shot on the tissue, dripping with mucus. Helen sighed in relief.

"You did it, Moms!" Bobby happily exclaimed. "Oh, thank you! I thoughted Dr. Ferris was gonna have to sick a clothes hanger up my nose and ‘trieve out that string!"

"Well, I have a lot of things left to do, Bobby. Why don’t you play quietly upstairs?" 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!" Bobby assured. "I know what it feels like now, so I won’t have to do it ever again!" And in typical Bobby horrorcane style, he flew up the stairs.

Helen rubbed her temples. She felt a monster migraine coming on. She looked at her watch and saw that it was a few minutes after ten o’clock. Time to get back to those centerpieces, she thought.

 

An hour later…

The ringing of the telephone interrupted Helen just as she was putting the finishing touches on the first center piece she completed that day. "Hello. Belden residence."

"Hey, baby! How’s your day going?" Helen smiled at the husky voice of her husband.

"Much better now that you called," she answered with a smile.

"Is Bobby behaving himself?"

"Does he ever?" Helen teased.

"What did he do now?"

"I’m not sure what he’s up to now, but an hour ago, I had to fish a kite string out of his nose."

Peter Belden burst out laughing. "Why did he put a kite string up his nose?"

Helen giggled. "We’re talking about Bobby. He probably put the string up his nose for the same reason he super-glued his fingers together. He wanted to know what it felt like."

"Gee, another curious kid. That inquisitive Johnston gene really 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, dear, 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," Helen replied ever so sweetly. "But if I am 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 and her husband’s navy suit. She had already pinned the cuffs up so that they were the right length. Soon she had the pants expertly hemmed and pressed. I’d better hang this up in our closet so Bobby doesn’t get anything on it, she thought.

Helen climbed the stairs to their second floor bedroom. She hung up the suit in the closet. Bobby is being quiet. Wonder what he’s up to. Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough. She closed the door to her bedroom and was almost knocked over by Bobby. He was quickly exiting his sister’s room.

"What are you doing, son? You aren’t messing up Trixie’s room, are you?"

Bobby shook his head, his blonde curls flying.

"You’re not supposed to go in there without her permission. Remember when you went in and broke Spotty," Helen reminded.

"I didn’t broke anything, Moms! I was just lookin’ at Trixie’s diarrhea."

"Trixie’s what?" Helen exclaimed.

"Her diarrhea!" Bobby insisted. "Did you know that Trixie wrote Jim’s name a whole bunch in her diarrhea?"

Helen laughed. "I think you mean her diary. I don’t think Trixie would like you looking in it. She writes 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.

Helen went back downstairs to finish her centerpieces. It was 11:30, and she still had three center pieces to complete. Hope Bobby doesn’t mind a Crabapple Special for lunch, she thought. She chose some flowers and began sticking them in the Styrofoam base.

Helen was interrupted by the slamming of the back door. She was greeted by her exuberate daughter and her honey-haired friend.

"Hey, Moms!"

"Hello, Mrs. Belden!" Honey replied in a much more subdued voice. "Boy, you’re doing a marvelous job with those flower arrangements. They look professionally done!"

"Thank you, Honey," Helen answered, pleased by the compliment. "They are 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 more often to eat!"

"I told you that months ago, Trixie," remarked Helen.

"I just thought of it today! I thought it 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 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 along with us."

"Is Jim goin’?" Bobby asked innocently, glancing at Trixie.

"No, lamb," Honey answered. "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?"

Trixie shrieked in anger. "Robert Belden? 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 and plus signs and junk?" He giggled as Trixie chased him around the kitchen table. He skillfully dodged her grasp as she pursued him. "Trixie and Jim, sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" He escaped the kitchen and ran up the stairs, Trixie clipping at his heels.

"Honey, dear, 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 as Helen was starting the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. "What’s that delectable aroma permeating the stratosphere?" Mart asked, 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. "We’ll be careful not to get it all over the place."

"Where’s Honey? And Trixie?" Brian hastily added.

"Upstairs getting Bobby ready for lunch," Helen reported. "Now scoot upstairs 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 Bobby was bound in handcuffs and gagged with a bandana.

"Trixie!" Helen reprimanded. "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 sternly looked at her son. "If Trixie lets you go, not one word about what you read today. Do you understand?" Bobby enthusiastically nodded his head, his blonde curls bobbing. "Let him go, Trixie."

Trixie sighed and dug the key for the handcuffs out of the pocket in her shorts. "If you say one word, Bobby, you’ll never see Oscar again!" she hissed as she unlocked him. Bobby’s 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 ‘cause 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 on the table. Honey quickly removed the vegetable soup from the microwave. 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 friend. She noticed that Honey fluffled her honey hair at the sight of Brian.

"I’m telling you, Brian, it would work," Mart whispered. "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 10 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, "I don’t know. You all have never smelled Mr. Maypenny’s moonshine. You can 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 at Trixie.

Trixie giggled. "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 laugh.

"Well, this food is getting cold," Helen chided. "Brian, will you please ask the blessing." Brian blessed the food, and soon the table returned to its usual 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 neighbor’s 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 have been easier if I could have driven you around in the Bob-White station wagon, but I already promised to help Brian," Jim said. "You sure are swell, 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 at all riding our bikes."

"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 Arizona to see her Uncle Monty," Trixie remarked, helping herself to a second helping of soup.

Mart scowled at his sister, ignoring Dan’s tittering 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 casually glanced over to 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 of 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 as good as Mr. Maypenny’s hunter’s stew."

""Yes, we love coming here for one of your meals, Mrs. Belden," Honey went on. "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 well known.

"How is the work on your car going, Brian?" Honey shyly asked.

"Pretty good. Tom helped us remove the chrome bumpers, and we’re busy now sanding off all the old paint and the rust spots."

"Tom sure is a great guy for helping us out like this," Jim added. "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 up all her new lavender fingernail polish on the little flowers, and you’re just going to paint all over it!" Trixie snorted. She 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 get your car all done, can I paint some more labender flowers on it?" Bobby asked.

Brian looked horrified. He was obviously imagining his littlest brother adding his own 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. "Those clowns couldn’t get into college."

"Maybe they’ll just put it in the Sleepyside Sun then instead!" Honey teased. "With the caption, "The Bob-White males rent the chick flick "A Perplexing Existence" in their new wheels."

"If I never see "A Perplexing Existence" again, it will be too soon," Dan added.

"I hate Ewan McGregor," Jim muttered.

"And Tom Welling," Brian added, unhappily.

"Don’t forget Matthew McConaughey," Mart mumbled.

"Oh, I liked that movie!" Mrs. Belden exclaimed. "Pierce Brosnan was so good as the father!" Trixie and 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 Manor House garage. Tom will be waiting for us."

"Gleeps! Is it 1:00 already?" Mart hurriedly crammed the rest of his second sandwich in his mouth. He grabbed another one and stuffed it in his pocket.

"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 added.

"You boys are welcome any time," Helen told them. 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 beautiful blue eyes, just like Di had taught her. "That would 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 menfolk retire to the Wheelers automotive abode! Ouch!" This time, Trixie’s foot hit her intended target.

"Guys, we better get going," Brian ordered, making his way to the door.

"Yes, sir!" Mart gave a mock salute and 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 teased. "I think his mind was on someone else."

Trixie shot her a warning glance. Everyone knew that Trixie had special feelings for the supple redhead, but it wasn’t 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 better hurry if we’re going to finish asking for donations!" She looked pleadingly at her mother.

Helen sighed. "I suppose you’re excused from the lunch dishes."

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 times before. She had yet to see her daughter attack every inch of Crabapple Farm with Pledge.

"Thanks for lunch, Mrs. Belden," Honey said politely. "You sure put our cooks to shame."

"You’re welcome any time, Honey," Helen said, hugging her daughter’s best friend.

"Come on, Honey! We better get on the road!" Trixie exploded. She and Honey flew out of the house, leaving a mound of dishes to wash.

"I’ll holp you, Moms!" Bobby exclaimed.

"Thank you, Bobby, but I’ll take care of it myself," Helen answered, remembered that her serving set was lacking six plates thanks to Bobby’s "holp" after breakfast. "How about you bring your coloring books and crayons down to the kitchen? You can keep me company while I clean up the kitchen?"

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 did the lunch dishes. A half-hour later, Helen finished washing and drying the last dish. "How are you doing, Bobby?" She peeked at his picture.

"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 farm table. "Sorry, Moms. I actually did it," he admitted.

"I understand. I should have put newspaper under your coloring book. I think it’s about your nap time, Bobby."

"Can I go upstairs and brush my teeth first? The dentist sayed you should brush your teeth after every meal. They even say that on all those commercials. The ‘merican Denal ‘sociation said so too." Bobby was infamous for finding a million excuses to delay his nap.

Helen smiled. "You hurry up. You have five minutes."

Bobby raced out of the kitchen and clomped up the stairs. 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 me!" Bobby wailed, running in 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.

"I didn’t go in our bathroom!" Bobby cried. "The boys gotted grease all over the sink, and I didn’t wanna get in it!"

Helen sighed at the thought of another mess to clean up. "Did you brush your teeth in my bathroom, Bobby?"

Bobby nodded, his tears still flowing. He frantically rubbed his tongue.

"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 Bobby 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! Helen thought, reading Monistat 7 on the tube. She picked it up with a shaking hand. "Is this what you brushed your teeth with, Bobby?" She asked as calmly as possible.

Bobby sobbed and nodded his head. "That’s not very good toothpaste, Moms!"

Helen raced into her bedroom and picked up the phone. She quickly dialed the Poison Control Center, which she had committed to memory after some of Mart’s shenanigans. She tried her best to both placate her son and to talk to the man at the PCC at the same time.

After the man at the Poison Control Center was convinced that it wasn’t a prank call, and after he finally quit laughing, he assured Helen that Bobby would live. It was best not to apply Monistat 7 to your tongue, but it was not fatal. He gave her some tips on how best to soothe the burning and added that at least her son wouldn’t get thrush.

Helen angrily hung up the phone and tried to calm Bobby down. She followed the 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 you Peter Rabbit, 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 Helen knew he would fall asleep soon. She kissed him on the forehead and went back to the kitchen to finish her centerpieces.

Helen looked at her watch. It was after 2:00. She had three hours to finish.

 

Two hours later…

Helen sneaked into the den. She peered at her youngest child curled up asleep on the couch. She shut the television off 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 as she began the final one.

Suddenly, Helen jumped as the back screen door slammed shut. "Moms! Are you in here?" Trixie called loudly.

"Shhh!" Helen whispered. "Your brother is asleep in the den. I don’t want you to wake him."

"Gleeps! Why is he asleep in there for?"

Helen looked up in exasperation. "He had a traumatic experience after lunch, so I laid him on the sofa to watch a movie. He fell asleep a 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 in 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 and 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 is going to take me and Honey around to pick up some clothing we had 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 had 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 door making Helen’s head explode.

Bobby stomped his foot and began crying. "I wanna go too! I never get to 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, 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 in the house.

"Jeepers, Moms! It’s rainin’ bats and frogs out there!" Bobby shook the water from his blonde hair to emphasize his point. His clothing was soaked and covered in mud. His shoes made a squeak, squeak sound, which apparently Bobby found delightful, seeing as how he was dancing around to make them squeak more.

"Bobby, I need to run 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 slid 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, Helen and Bobby were pulling out of the driveway at Crabapple Farm. They were on Glen Road when the steering in the station wagon lurched to the left. Helen frantically righted the car, when it suddenly swerved to the right. The abrupt motion was too difficult to control, and the station wagon crashed in a ditch. Helen screamed as the air bag deployed. She looked around to check on Bobby and found him safely in the back seat, wide eyed and excited.

‘What happened?" Helen gasped. She leaned her head back on the seat, taking a moment to regain her composure.

"Stay here, Bobby," she commanded. "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 wasn’t as bad as Helen 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 tire. 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. "Oh, goody, Moms! Do we getta walk all the way home in the rain?"

"I’m afraid so," Helen said, her excitement not quite matching Bobby’s.

"Yippee! This is my lucky day!" Bobby exclaimed, hopping 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. It was no use to fuss about the mud now. 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. "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 you wreck, Moms?"

"I ran over some nails, Bobby, and they made my tires blow out. It 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!"

Helen 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 and gotted worried about all the bad guys Trixe caughted. I was scared they might come back. Some of them guys stealed things, and I was scared they might steal Trixie. So I setted a trap for ‘em!" Bobby bounded in a particularly large puddle. "And it workded! It really workded, Moms!"

At this point, Helen didn’t 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, Bobby tugged on her sleeve. "I thoughted it would be a good idea. I’m sorry I actually did it now, Moms."

Helen 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 didn’t want to say anything to her son that she would regret after she cooled down. She was also worried that someone else would get a flat tire in their driveway. At least the rain stopped, she thought to herself.

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 his 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 blow out over a mile 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 get 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 with her teeth chattering.

"Brian is 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 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. "Candle light 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 community building. I stopped by there on my way home to see how it looked, and they were there. 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 see 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 wiggle to his dark brows.

Helen giggled. "And what about dinner for us?"

Peter pulled a picnic basket on 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," 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. Any place that you want to go is fine." He grinned at her. "As long as we can be there and back in a couple of days."

Helen threw her arms around her husband. "Oh, Peter! That sounds perfect."

"After the day you’ve had, you deserve it," Peter said adamantly. "Did Bobby really brush his teeth with Monistat cream?"

Helen giggled. "Yes! And then there was also Trixie’s diarrhea, broken dishes, the blowout…"

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!" Helen teased.

"Contrary to what our kids think, when have we ever waited till Friday night?" Peter whispered, loosening her robe.

Author’s notes:

A big thank you to my editor, Kay Renee! You were a big help again, as always! Your advice about refinishing cars was very helpful! *big hugs to you*

My "baby" brother, who is now a strapping 19 year old, confused his "actually" and "accidentally". 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 19 year old Mart. Blonde 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 7, and she would never do those kinds of things now. After all, she did that stuff a whole year 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

 TBH Main