lettuce.
Thinking better of the idea of trying to catch this cricket, he looked at the insect and then at the jar of pickles in his hand.
Guess I’d better not deal with the bug right
now
, he decided.
Mom will either come lookin’ for me or send someone else down to see what’s takin’ so long.
Running up the stairs, Mark hurried back to the kitchen. “Want me to open it?” he asked Mom after he’d set the jar on the table.
She nodded. “And when you do, the first pickle goes to Ada. Understand?”
“Jah.”
Mark grabbed the lid of the jar and gave it a twist. It didn’t open.
“Want me to do that for you?” Ike asked.
“I’m sure I can get it.” Mark twisted a little harder this time, but the lid still wouldn’t budge.
“Why don’t you take it over to the sink and run some warm water over the lid?” Mom suggested.
Mark did as she suggested, and then he carried the jar back to the table. Gripping the lid tightly and gritting his teeth, he cranked on the lid with all his strength.
Swoosh!
The lid came right off. Mark was about to reach inside the jar for a pickle when Ada bumped his arm and hollered, “Bickel!” The jar slipped out of Mark’s hands and toppled over.
Mark took a step backward, but not quick enough. The pickles spilled onto the floor, splattering sticky juice all over, including his shoes. Some even splashed him in the face.
Mom gasped. Mattie plugged her nose and said, “Phew! That pickle juice sure does stink!” Dad’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. Mark’s brothers chuckled. Ada started to howl.
Mark moaned. This had not been a very good day. He and Mattie hadn’t made any money at the stand this morning. He’d lost his marble in the pile of leaves. Then he’d helped Russell rake the leaves back into a pile. There was a big cricket in the basement, and he’d missed the chance to catch it. Now he had a smelly, sticky pickle mess to clean up.
The pickles were slippery, and whenever Mark tried to pick one up, it slipped through his fingers and fell back to the floor. “This isn’t working,” he said with a groan.
“Here, let me do that.” Mom squatted down beside him. She looked over at Mark and slowly shook her head. “You smell like pickle juice, so you’d better let me take over here while you go wash up.”
“Danki, Mom,” Mark said before scurrying down the hall toward the bathroom.
That night when it was time for bed, Mattie hurried to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She figured if she got there before anyone else she wouldn’t have to stand out in the hall and wait.
First Mattie washed her face with a warm washcloth. Then she removed the pins from the bun she wore at the back of her head. As she brushed her long red hair, she counted … one … two … three … four … five … She’d just reached the number twenty when someone pounded on the door.
“Hurry up, Mattie! You’re taking too long,” Mark hollered from the other side of the door.
“Go away! I’m busy brushing my hair!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Come on, Mattie! I need in there now!”
Mattie kept counting and brushing her hair. She didn’t stop until she got to one hundred. Grandma Miller had told Mattie once that she brushed her hair one hundred times every night. Mattie figured it would be a good idea if she did the same.
Bang! Bang!
“Mattie, are you ever coming out?”
“I’m not done yet. I need to brush my teeth.” Mattie put toothpaste on her toothbrush, opened her mouth real wide, and took her time brushing every one of her teeth. When she was done, she rinsed out her mouth with cold water. When she opened the bathroom door, Mark was standing in the hall with a scowl on his face.
“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “You were selfish hoggin’ the bathroom like that.”
“I wouldn’t talk about being selfish if I were you,” Mattie said with her hands on her hips. “You’ve been doing selfish things all day.”
“Have
Thinking better of the idea of trying to catch this cricket, he looked at the insect and then at the jar of pickles in his hand.
Guess I’d better not deal with the bug right
now
, he decided.
Mom will either come lookin’ for me or send someone else down to see what’s takin’ so long.
Running up the stairs, Mark hurried back to the kitchen. “Want me to open it?” he asked Mom after he’d set the jar on the table.
She nodded. “And when you do, the first pickle goes to Ada. Understand?”
“Jah.”
Mark grabbed the lid of the jar and gave it a twist. It didn’t open.
“Want me to do that for you?” Ike asked.
“I’m sure I can get it.” Mark twisted a little harder this time, but the lid still wouldn’t budge.
“Why don’t you take it over to the sink and run some warm water over the lid?” Mom suggested.
Mark did as she suggested, and then he carried the jar back to the table. Gripping the lid tightly and gritting his teeth, he cranked on the lid with all his strength.
Swoosh!
The lid came right off. Mark was about to reach inside the jar for a pickle when Ada bumped his arm and hollered, “Bickel!” The jar slipped out of Mark’s hands and toppled over.
Mark took a step backward, but not quick enough. The pickles spilled onto the floor, splattering sticky juice all over, including his shoes. Some even splashed him in the face.
Mom gasped. Mattie plugged her nose and said, “Phew! That pickle juice sure does stink!” Dad’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. Mark’s brothers chuckled. Ada started to howl.
Mark moaned. This had not been a very good day. He and Mattie hadn’t made any money at the stand this morning. He’d lost his marble in the pile of leaves. Then he’d helped Russell rake the leaves back into a pile. There was a big cricket in the basement, and he’d missed the chance to catch it. Now he had a smelly, sticky pickle mess to clean up.
The pickles were slippery, and whenever Mark tried to pick one up, it slipped through his fingers and fell back to the floor. “This isn’t working,” he said with a groan.
“Here, let me do that.” Mom squatted down beside him. She looked over at Mark and slowly shook her head. “You smell like pickle juice, so you’d better let me take over here while you go wash up.”
“Danki, Mom,” Mark said before scurrying down the hall toward the bathroom.
That night when it was time for bed, Mattie hurried to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She figured if she got there before anyone else she wouldn’t have to stand out in the hall and wait.
First Mattie washed her face with a warm washcloth. Then she removed the pins from the bun she wore at the back of her head. As she brushed her long red hair, she counted … one … two … three … four … five … She’d just reached the number twenty when someone pounded on the door.
“Hurry up, Mattie! You’re taking too long,” Mark hollered from the other side of the door.
“Go away! I’m busy brushing my hair!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Come on, Mattie! I need in there now!”
Mattie kept counting and brushing her hair. She didn’t stop until she got to one hundred. Grandma Miller had told Mattie once that she brushed her hair one hundred times every night. Mattie figured it would be a good idea if she did the same.
Bang! Bang!
“Mattie, are you ever coming out?”
“I’m not done yet. I need to brush my teeth.” Mattie put toothpaste on her toothbrush, opened her mouth real wide, and took her time brushing every one of her teeth. When she was done, she rinsed out her mouth with cold water. When she opened the bathroom door, Mark was standing in the hall with a scowl on his face.
“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “You were selfish hoggin’ the bathroom like that.”
“I wouldn’t talk about being selfish if I were you,” Mattie said with her hands on her hips. “You’ve been doing selfish things all day.”
“Have