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Poor Timmy had a really bad day and finished it off by telling on himself! |
| [Introduction] |
| Timmy stepped off the bus, his head hanging low, and even his blond curls seemed to have lost their bounce. “This day sucked,” he told his mother as he took her hand for the walk home. “Excuse me?” One eyebrow rose. The message was clear – that kind of language was not acceptable for a six-year-old. “Ummm, I mean, this day really stunk.” With every step, Timmy scuffed the sidewalk with each toe. Another don’t do that, Timmy thought. Everything’s a don’t do that. “Want to tell me about it?” “No.” “Got in trouble, didn’t you?” At this Timmy stopped, and his head whipped up to glare at his mother, his indignant brown eyes snapping. “Okay, who snitched this time?” “Timmy,” his mom began, smothering a grin as she bent down to face him. Her face mirrored his right down to the smattering of light freckles that dusted his up-turned nose. “That doesn’t matter. What does is that I hear your side of it, okay?” She rose and started walking again, waiting. |
| Timmy looked up at his mom, and once their eyes locked, Timmy could no longer resist the urge to tell his side of the story. “Ben did it, Ben did. He made me take Anna’s lunch and hide it from her, and so I did, I took it,” Timmy said trying to hold back his tears. “But why? Why did you listen to Ben? Anna is your friend,” Timmy’s mom offered, trying to comfort her boy who had started crying. “Because, Ben, he told me that Anna was so fat, she was gonna be sick if she ate more and I didn’t WANT her be sick, and I took her box because she is fat and I don’t want her to be sick,” Timmy grew red as he admitted this. “Then Anna started to cry and she went to Mr. Feezle and Mr. Feezle stopped the bus and said he wasn’t gonna go nowhere until one of us said who it was.” “And did you admit to what you did?” Timmy’s mother asked sharply, but knowing that the question was probably going to be answered in the negative. “No, mom. I ate her lunch. It tasted bad,” Timmy said as he shoved his finger down his throat, “ I almost threw up!” “Now, honey. Stop that. Anna has to eat special kinds of food because she has a sickness called diabetes which means she's got too much sugar in her blood. She is sick, but not because she is bigger or looks different. Do you understand? Its not nice to call someone fat.” “And then Mr. Feezle looked at me and I just knew, somebody had snitched!” Timmy cried out, clearly failing to hear what his mother just said. |
| “Alright, honey. Let’s talk about this later, okay?” Timmy’s mom smiled, as he sniffled and then wiped at his nose with his sleeve. Without words, she pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and handed it to him. “Mommy?” His eyes suddenly found the tips of his scuffed up shoes very interesting. “That’s not all. I did other bad things today too.” Timmy peeked up to check his mom’s reaction. “Oh?” That eyebrow was back up again. “You know Mr. and Mrs. Cottontail?” His mother halted, as both eyebrows shot up. “The class rabbits? Timmy, what did you do?” “It’s not my fault!” Timmy cried. “Nathan said they were lonely ‘cause they have to live apart, and Mr. Cottontail would probably like a visit. So right before we went to circle time, I snuck him over.” “Oh, Timmy, you didn’t!” Timmy’s mother turned away from him, her shoulders shaking. Uh, oh, Timmy thought, Mom must be real mad ‘cause she’s cryin’. “Just for a quick visit. I promise, Mom. And he did like it too!” Timmy smiled.”I could tell ‘cause he kept jumpin’ up on Mrs. Cottontail and was trying to wrestle with her.” Timmy’s smile turned to a frown. “But I don’t think Mrs. Cottontail liked it. She kept squealing and tryin’ to get away.” Timmy’s mom had turned back around, but he could tell she had been biting her lip, and her face was awfully red. “Ummm,” she asked, “What did Miss Sheffield do?” “Well, she was super mad. Kept screaming about how we’d have too many bunnies, and wantin’ to know who did it. I told her it was okay, cause when Mrs. Cottontail quit squalin’ they’d make up. I told her that’s what you and Daddy do!” “Timothy!” If possible his mother’s face turned redder, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore. “Please tell me you told Miss Sheffield that you arranged this little visit.” “No! But somebody snitched on me.” Timmy’s face had once again taken on that defiant look. “Miss Sheffield said she was going to be calling you. For some reason, she thinks you might like a few bunnies. Can we, Mom?” “I really don’t think so.” His mother shook her head. “Please tell me that’s all you did today.” “Ummm, not exactly.” |
| "Timmy, why don't you wait until we get home before you tell me. Mommy is a bit tired." They walked in silence the rest of the way, Timmy always hanging a few steps behind his mother. When they got into the house, Timmy's mother headed straight for the kitchen where she felt the most at ease. She did not even check to make sure that when her legs weakened and she dropped, she would actually land in one of her favorite kitchen chairs. The wooden anniversary gift from her brother had grown quaint, a result of repeated drive-by smudge stabbings from color sets Timmy was now beginning to outgrow. But, since she had been in charge of that kitchen since she was pregnant with Timmy, she landed perfectly in the victimized chair while simultaneously stretching and clasping her hands together behind her neck. “I don’t think I can take this anymore, Tim!” “I know Mom. I know. But I felt really bad about everything,” Timmy approached his mother and sat down beside her at the foot of the chair, “So, I wanted to surprise you!” Timmy jumped up and ran behind his mother, wrestled her hands apart, and placed something cold, metallic, and sharp in her left hand. “What’s this you have here?” Timmy’s mother looked at her hand and saw a diamond ring. She shook it. Seems real. She eyed it, trying to ascertain, before exploding the air that had collected in her lungs, that this ring was indeed as real as it felt. “Timmy,” she whispered, then “TIMMY!” “Yeah mom, see. Look it.” He was dancing around her in circles now. “I found this at pool during practice, and I yelled and no one said it was theirs and I remember you telling Daddy you really wanna have a new ring…!” “Oh my gosh, I have to call the pool.” Timmy mother ran to the fridge to find the listing of numbers she had up for the places her household regularly encountered. “ I have to call, I have to call. I am just happy you told me about this now, Timmy, someone is probably looking for this. I want you to go to your room right now while I figure this out!” |
| "Wait a minute! Just when did you find this ring? You didn't have swim practice today. You just got off the bus." Timmy's mother didn't look nearly as happy as he had thought she would be. "Ummm, on Saturday, I think." He'd been saving it for just such a day as this. He was in deep doo-doo, and Daddy had always said that a little sweet-talkin' never hurt when a fella was in serious trouble. What woman could resist a diamond? Just then the back door opened and a tall, thin man with bushy eyebrows sauntered through, tossing a briefcase down on the counter. "Hey, there, Squirt. How was your day?" "Daddy!" Timmy rushed into his father's outstretched arms, knowing he would save him. "I've had the worst day." "I'll say he's had a bad day. You won't believe what your son has done now!" His mother interrupted and proceeded to fill his father in on every gory detail. Timmy stared at her in horrror! His own mother had just snitched on him. Apparently, the ring hadn't worked. "Well, Timmy," his father began, as his mother summed up the day's events. "It sounds like you have had a bad day. Now, what are you going to do about it?" "Huh? I can't do nothing about it now," Timmy wailed. He'd been so sure that his dad would be on his side. "Can't do anything," his mother corrected, "And I think your father means how are you going to make up for the things that you have done?" "Well, I tried giving you a ring, Mommy. Daddy said jewelry works every time when he's in trouble." At this, his mother shot his father a glare. "Uh, son," Timmy's father cleared his throat, "What about the people you hurt?" "Well, can I give the ring to Anna?" "No!" both parents shot back. "Okaaay, I guess I could pack her a lunch tomorrow?" Tim checked his mother's face to see if this met her approval. She nodded, "That's a start." "And I could take all the baby bunnies home for Miss Sheffield." "No!" Again both parents spoke as one. He was clearly out-numbered here. "Well," Timmy thought for a moment. "Could I help find homes? We could put up posters. And if we can't find a home, maybe Grandpa would take them on his farm." "Now, that sounds like a plan," his father beamed, clearly satisfied. "Uh, at the risk of being a wet blanket," his mother interjected, "but there is still the problem of the ring. I'm going to call the YMCA and ask if anyone has reported it lost. When we find the owners, Tim, I expect you to personally give it back to them and apologize. I know that you just found it, but it's not okay to keep something like that; its very expensive. Understand?" "Yes, Mommy. I'll take it back. I promise." Timmy smiled. "I'm gonna go play now, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Timmy spun and took off for the door. Unfortunately, he only made it a foot or two, before he felt something yank on his collar and lift him off his feet. He found himself being deposited in front of his father, who was suddenly not so satisfied. "Now, hold your horses, Squirt. We're not through with you yet." His father's eyebrows had settled into one continuous line. "I'm also thinking that there will be no TV for a week." "But," Timmy protested. "We can make it no Wii game too, if you would like," his mother added. "Nope, no TV for a week sounds completely fair to me. Yes, ma'm, I can't think of anything fairer." Timmy knew a good deal when he heard one, especially since he hadn't exactly confessed everything. It was only a matter of time before his mother remembered that there was more. |
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