Adam inhaled the smell of warm chocolate, his eyes closed in bliss. Another day of school over and home to mom’s baking. A nearly perfect afternoon, if only he’d caught something slimy in the creek on his walk home. Then he’d have slipped it into Laura’s backpack. I bet the whole neighbourhood would hear her scream. Sweet.
“Hi, boys. Good day at school today? How was that math quiz Andrew? Did you finish your lunches?”
The two brothers grunted in unison, shrugged off their coats and kicked. Forensic-type smears splattered against the wall with a whack and their shoes tumbled together. Why does mom always ask one question after another? And she’s gonna check our lunch bags anyway, why waste her breath?
Adam spotted his sister playing on the floor at his mom’s feet, piles of Tupperware fortifying her position. Megan looked up and squealed in delight. Ugh, hope she hasn’t put her grubby fingers in the baking bowl.
“What did you make Mom? Can we have it now? I’m starving.” Andrew was always starving. Anything that went into his mouth immediately vanished, followed by a request for more. He had never once complained of being full, only of the food running out.
“Brownies, dear. And yes, you can have some.” Two sets of eyes lit up. “After your homework’s done.” Shoulders dropped and groans escaped.
“Just one Mom, please? Come on.”
Her quiet humming was a sure sign that she had stopped listening. Adam turned and reached for his bag, followed by his brother. Both thumped to the kitchen table. Heavy books slammed in protest and heavier sighs reached feebly for a maternal change of heart.
Nothing for it but to get going.
Adam wasn’t in the mood for composition, but apparently his third grade teacher had been. He placed down a stark white piece of paper with bold type across the top. “My Family.” This should be fun.
My family has five people. My dad, my mom, my brother and me. And my baby sister.
The sound of Megan’s high chair scraping across the room made Adam cringe for a moment. “Bada bada. Ma ma maaaaaaaaa.” Adam leaned over his sheet, blocking Megan’s slobber he was sure would fly clean across the table. He wasn’t explaining that one to his teacher.
My dad works every day. He draws and uses a computer and says big words like voltage and transformer (but not the cool robot kind). He doesn’t work when we go to church or when he washes the car. My mom sings a lot and takes care of me and my brother. She is always washing stuff. She makes real good brownies.
Maybe she’ll read that and give me two.
My brother is taller than me and in grade six and likes to play Nintendo. He beats me at MarioKart but I beat him at Pokemon.
Adam sat back and looked at the large white expanse left. Uh oh. Mrs. T. always expects a full page and he already knew that didn’t mean extra large printing. Guess he’d better use his imagination.
“Blllllllllup. Pbbbbbbbbup.” He ventured a peek at his little sister perched in her high chair. A bowl of blueberries sat in front of her and a large smear of blueberry juice covered the chair, her bib, chin and cheeks. She looked like some sort of purple alien with a spoon shaped sword. “Ammmmma! Baaaaaaaada,” she tried to communicate with her contemplative sibling.
My sister hasn’t had a birthday yet, but it’s coming.
Adam tilted his head and cocked the pencil to his teeth.
I know her secret. My sister is a super villain. She looks cute and pretends that she can’t talk, but when she eats blueberries her evil powers come out. The purple juice is radioactive on her baby skin. She screams so loud that the dogs go deaf and the windows break. Nobody can stand against her. Mom tries to stop the screaming by giving Megan ice cream. Sometimes that works.
My brother and my dad and me try to fight her badness but we can’t. Her diapers are so stinky that we fall over and die. No one can beat the power of Purple Girl, my super villain sister. Beware. And don’t give kids blueberries.
The last few words were squeezed onto the bottom of the sheet, but he got it all.
Not bad. “All done Mom! How ‘bout them brownies?”
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