by Kenneth M. Kapp
“Honestly!” Little Bonny J waived her hands in the air. “Honestly, Mom, I didn’t eat those cookies. A girl has to be careful to keep her figure youthful. Even when you’re eight that’s important. You’ve told me that umpteen times. See, I do listen!”
“Right, Bonny. At least a dozen times. But the cookie jar is half-empty and I filled it this afternoon right before you came home from school.” “Maybe it was Granny. She came by this afternoon like she always does, because she doesn’t like leaving latchkey children home alone. I’ve told her I’m a big girl and she needn’t worry none.”
“Good try, but my mother doesn’t like raisins and those were the raisin-walnut cookies I made for your father. They’re his favorites and were supposed to be a surprise for him. I was going to put them in a box, wrap it with a ribbon on top and give it to him after supper. Now what am I going to do?”
“Get a smaller box?”
“Bonny, you’re pushing it! That’s enough sass. No TV or gaming for the rest of the week.”
“That’s no fair.”
“Well, neither is eating cookies and lying about it. You can’t grow up lying all the time. What are you going to do?”
“Become a politician, maybe even the President.”
“Bonny J, you go to your room right now, not another word!”