|Butter Wouldn't Melt|
"Don't put butter in yer sister's hair"
"But Mam, she put ketchup in me porridge!"
Dora just smiled.
"She's only three Geoffrey, she doesn't understand. Give us
yer bowl, I'll get yer some more" the harassed mother sighed, as she
rubbed Dora's hair with a wet cloth that only smeared butter further
into her tight curls.
Dora let out a squeal.
"And stop kicking yer sister!"
"But Mam, she kicked me first! And I know she's only three, but...
well I don't care!"
"Go and sit in yer Dad's armchair, you can have it in your lap!"
Geoffrey hoped she didn't mean really in his lap. He'd put on his best
clothes for the end of year school party and his bowl already had his
name on the bottom. He sat down, hands ready to catch the sticky
porridge; just in case.
"Is there a brew going?" a gruff voice called out from the hall. "I've
bin dying to get these boots off for the last hour, kept us all back the
boss did. Said we had to restack the whole flippin lot!"
Geoffrey; grateful that the porridge had come in a bowl; was just
lifting a full spoonful half way to his mouth, when the gruff voice
entered the small living room cum kitchen and cried,
"What's he doing in my chair eating porridge?"
Geoffrey, jumped back in surprise and the bowl jumped with him -
landing upside down - leaving Geoffrey with porridge in his lap after
all and the loaded spoon, with a mind of its own, flicked the sticky
goo onto his forehead, where it slowly slid, dripping in slow blobs,
onto his nose.
Seeing his children; with more food on them, than on the table,
cracked his straight face and great gales of laughter erupted from the
be-whiskered mouth. And Mam laughed and Geoffrey doubled-up
laughing and Dora; with her golden locks; giggled and giggled till she
wet her draws!