Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

I dared to glance in the kitchen. What a mistake. The sink was overflowing with pots and dishes, napkins and Popsicle wrappers, and about a million TV dinner trays. The breakfast dishes were still on the table. I could tell exactly what Mrs. Barrett had served because the remains were in plain view. Soft-boiled eggs (the yolks, now crusty, glued to the plates); orange juice (dried pulp in the glasses), bananas (peels on the table), and Pop-Tarts (crusts stuck in a glass).

Yick. Ew, ew, ew.

I was still looking around when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I turned and saw an absolutely gorgeous young woman rushing toward us. She looked like a model. Honest. She was wearing a silk blouse, a sleek linen suit, brown heels, and gold jewelry — not too much, but enough so you noticed it. Her hair fell away from her face in chestnut curls and she smelled of a heavenly perfume.

"Dawn?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes. Hi, Mrs. Barrett."

"Thank you for coming." She flashed me a warm smile, then quickly kissed Mamie, Suzi, and Buddy in turn.

"So long, darlings. Be good for Dawn." She rushed to the front door.

"Wait!" I called. "Where are you going to be?"

"On a job interview. And I'm late. Buddy, be a sweetheart and let Pow in the back door. I can hear him whining." Mrs. Barrett was halfway down the walk.

"Hey, what am I supposed to do this afternoon?" Where were the special instructions? Snacktime at four o'clock or help with homework, or something.

Mrs. Barrett paused. For a moment her beautiful face looked confused. "Just. . . sit," she said.

"What if — what if there's an emergency?" I asked. "How do I reach you?"

"I'll be at Mason and Company. It's on Spring Street. Or call the Pikes, okay?"

"Well ..." (Mrs. Barrett's car zoomed backward up the driveway.) ". . . all right," I finished, as she waved to us from the window and sped away.

I looked at the Barrett kids. They looked at me.

"You guys ever see Mary Poppins?" I asked.

They shook their heads.

Darn. I'd thought I could get them to tidy up the living room by pretending we were Mary Poppins and Jane and Michael Banks, cleaning up the nursery.

"Well, how'd you like to surprise your mother?"

"Okay!" said Buddy. I could tell he'd do anything for her.

"We're going to surprise her with a clean house."

"We are?" asked Buddy suspiciously.

"Yup. First go let Pow in, then I'll tell you what we're going to do."

"All right."

Buddy disappeared. While he was gone, I buttoned Suzi's jumper and rolled up the cuffs of Mamie's overalls. Then I pulled a brush out of my purse and ran it through Mamie's curls. "We'll do your hair later," I told Suzi. "We'll have to take the braids out first."

Suzi nodded.

Buddy returned, followed by a sleepy-looking basset hound. "This is Pow," he announced. "The meanest dog that ever lived."

Pow's eyelids drooped. He rolled over on his side.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yup," replied Buddy.

"This must be an off day," I said as Pow fell asleep. "Okay, you guys, are you ready for a game? I'm going to time us to see how fast we can clean up the living room. Take anything that doesn't belong in there and put it where it does belong. Tidy everything else up. But be careful. Don't work so fast you break something. We'll have to add time to our score if we break anything." I looked at my watch. The second hand was approaching the twelve.

"Take your marks." Suzi and Buddy and I crowded into the entryway to the living room. Buddy removed the swimming flippers. (Mar-nie didn't know what was going on.)

"Get set." We crouched down.

"GO!"

We ran into the living room and a flurry of activity began. Buddy found three plates and ran them into the kitchen.

"Bring the sponge back with you!" I yelled.

Buddy returned and threw me the sponge. I wiped up the coffee table while Suzi collected newspapers.

"Does your mom save the papers?" I asked.

Suzi shook her head.

"Then stack them up," I told her. "We'll make a bundle for the trash collector."

Suzi stacked, I straightened cushions, Buddy rounded up toys, and Marnie helped him.

Within minutes the room looked as if it belonged in a different house, or maybe even in a TV commercial. I checked my watch. "Six minutes and seventeen seconds!" I announced.

"Is that a record?" exclaimed Buddy.

"It might be," I said. "But not if we break it cleaning up the kitchen. Shall we try to break our record?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" shouted Buddy.

Suzi smiled shyly at me. Her eyes were shining.

Marnie scrunched up her face and wrinkled her nose.

"That's the ham face," Buddy informed me. "She only makes it when she's happy."

I grinned. "All right, everybody, here are the special instructions for the Kitchen Race. I'm in charge of putting dishes in the dishwasher. You guys bring dirty dishes to me and I'll take care of them. Trash goes in the garbage, and anything that doesn't belong in the kitchen goes to the room it does belong in. Got it?"

"Got it," said Buddy.

"Got it," said Suzi.

Marnie made the ham face.

"Take your marks," I cried. "Get set, go!"

The kitchen was tougher than the living room. It took longer than I had thought it would to rinse the plates and glasses and put

them in the dishwasher, but we worked hard, anyway. Suzi cleaned the trash out of the sink and put it in the garbage. Buddy swept the floor. Mamie found a bag of M&M's and began eating them. I stopped her, gave her a paper towel, and showed her how to mop up the floor around Pow's water bowl.

When we were done, I looked at my watch again. "Well, we didn't break our record, I'm afraid. That took eleven minutes and forty-eight seconds."

"Darn," said Buddy.

"Yeah, darn," said Suzi.

"Let's clean up the playroom," Buddy suggested. "That's a real mess. If we break the record in there, it'll be a miracle."

So we straightened up the playroom, too. (We did not break our record.) Mrs. Barrett wasn't going to recognize her own house when she got home.

The Barrett kids and I flopped on the couch in the playroom. Pow wandered in. Buddy aimed a finger at him. "Blam, blam!" he shrieked.

I covered Buddy's hand with my own. "Hey, remember what I said about guns," I warned him. "Not while I'm around."

"So? Who says you're the boss?" Buddy asked defiantly. He leaped up and stood in front of me, legs spread, cowboy hat askew.

Very slowly, he raised his gun finger and aimed it at me.

"Buddy," I said calmly, "while I am babysitting, I am the boss. I'm in charge. And I say no guns."

"Why?"

"Because real guns are very dangerous. They are not toys. And I don't think we should ever pretend they are toys. There are plenty of other things we can pretend instead."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a hairdresser, and you're a father, and Suzi and Mamie are your kids and you decide to take them to get their hair fixed."

Buddy considered this. "I'm the daddy?" he asked.

"Yup."

"I'm the boss of them?" He pointed to his sisters.

"Yup."

"Okay."

So I accomplished two things. I rebraided Suzi's hair (and even brushed Buddy's), and I took Buddy's mind off guns. Buddy wasn't going to be playing with guns while I was around.

By five o'clock, the kids were getting tired and cranky. Buddy yelled at Pow. Mamie

stopped making the ham face. Suzi stopped talking and started nodding again.

"Do you have a daddy?" Buddy asked me suddenly.

We were sitting on the floor in the playroom. I looked at him in surprise. "Well, yes/' I replied. "But not here. I mean, he doesn't live with us."

"Really?" said Buddy.

I sighed. "Yeah. He's in California. Three thousand miles away."

Buddy nodded knowingly. He looked like a little old man. "We don't have our daddy, either."