No Talking Back

No Talking Back

“Time to come in for lunch!” I yelled to gather the troops.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Joey, Mike and Sally ran to the kitchen, flushed from playing outside all morning.

“Who’s the sassy one? You know there’s no talking back.”

All three looked at me like I had three heads.

“Well, get your hands washed for lunch,” I ordered, then turned to the stove.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

My three urchins hurried to the bathroom. When they returned, I demanded again.

“Tell me now. Who’s talking back?”

“Not me, Mom,” said Joey.

“Not me,” said Mike.

“I didn’t say nothin’,” said Sally.

“You three sit down and eat your lunches. You know I don’t like talking sass. If I hear that again, no playing. Everyone goes to their rooms the rest of the day,” I pronounced then started the dishes.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Okay. That’s it! All of you, to your rooms!”

Three faces full of food stared at me, but they went obediently to their bedrooms.

‘I swear. I won’t abide disobedient children in my house,’ I grumbled, then attacked the kitchen with a vengeance. Dishes, the stove, refrigerator; all were cleaned to shining.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

I stomped down the hall, looked in each bedroom. Each one held a sleeping child. Now this was mysterious.

So I explored the house. The TV was off, the radio was off. No noise anywhere, until I heard again, “Don’t tell me what to do!” It came through the open window in the kitchen.

On the patio next door was a big cage with a gray bird.

I knocked on the neighbor’s door. A older man answered. “I know, the bird annoys you. Me too. Just wait til your kids are teenagers.”

W/C 300