The Penguin

My mom walked into my room and perked her nose in the air. It moved up and down, side to side, and reminded me of a rabbit. She walked around slowly, sniffing, like a dog hot on the trail or a cat who suspects a mouse. She checked the closet, she checked the toy box, she checked under the bed. Finally she goes to the corner where my life size plastic penguin was that Gramma Gerty got me the other day for my 5th birthday when she found out we were learning about penguins at my new school. Mom noticed the head was not completely on Mr. Wobbles. She took off the plastic head, looked in, and then looked away like she was going to throw up. Her attention then turned to me. She was red faced, I could tell she was livid, she was almost snarling, I was surprised she didn’t start foaming at the mouth. The only words I could muster were:

“You said I was in timeout and couldn’t leave my room and I HAD to poop really REALLY bad!”

She asked me what I used to wipe my butt and I looked at my sock drawer…

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