Cake Batter

Bernadette was out in the driveway, getting more and more frustrated with not being able stay up on her bike, after taking the training wheels off. Just as she was feeling like she should just quit, she heard a tapping on the kitchen window and looked up to see her mother waving her inside. As she dejectedly walked through the back door, she noticed the cake pans, floured and sitting on the kitchen counter. Her mother didn’t even have to tell her to go wash her hands. As soon as she saw them, she ran up the stairs to the bathroom, yelling “I hosie the bowl!” loud enough for her three older sisters to hear her, no matter where they were in the house.

Bernadette quickly washed her hands and raced back down the stairs, jumping from the second-to-last step while holding onto the bannister, then skidding her way into the kitchen. Her three sisters were all standing around their mother, Gina, arguing over how it wasn’t fair that Bernadette got to lick the bowl. But Gina wouldn’t budge. “Bernadette hosied it,” she’d said, “so the three of you will just have to be satisfied with licking the batter off the spatula and the beaters.” As the three of them grundingly accepted that they weren’t going to win this one, Gina turned her back to them and gave Bernadette a wink. The fact that she’d waved Bernadette in from the driveway would be their little secret.

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