Soupy Saturdays With the Pain and the Great One (7 page)

“Next year you better have a white cake for your half birthday,” he said. “Because I’m coming to your party.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not having any more half birthday parties. This was my first and last.”

“What about your regular birthday?”

“What about it?”

“I’m coming to your party, right?”

“You always do.”

“And you can come to mine,” he said. Then he ran to the hall mirror to look at himself in his tiara.

While he was gone I cut myself a huge slice of birthday cake. It tasted even better than last night.

Olive One

Aunt Diana is going on a trip. “Maybe she’ll bring the baby to stay with us,” the Great One said. “And I’ll be the babysitter.” She started lining up baby toys. Some of them were mine.

“The baby doesn’t like you,” I told the Great One.

“Does so!” the Great One shouted.

“Does not!” I shouted back. I picked up my old horn and tooted it at her.

She covered her ears and called, “Mommmm!”

I laughed. I love to make the Great One mad.

Mom came out of the kitchen. She was making soup. She always makes soup on Saturday mornings. She said, “Children … the baby will like both of you when he’s older.”

“But he’ll like me better,” the Great One said. “Because I know how to babysit.”

“No, you don’t,” I told her.

“Yes, I do!” The Great One put her hands on her hips. She glared at me. I laughed again.

“You are such a pain!” she shouted.

“Children,” Mom said again. “This is a silly argument.” Then she went back to the kitchen.

“Silly, silly, silly!” I sang, dancing around the Great One and all the baby toys.

The Great One tried to kick me. But I’m faster and jumped out of the way. Fluzzy sniffed an old windup monkey. “Stop that!”
the Great One told him. “That’s for the baby, not you.”

When the doorbell rang the Great One called, “I’ll get it!” But she ran so fast she tripped over the hall rug and fell flat on her face. I felt like laughing but I didn’t. Instead, I opened the door.

It was Aunt Diana holding the baby. “Ooooh,” the Great One called, picking herself up off the floor. “I knew you’d bring the baby.”

The baby’s name is Jackson. But everyone calls him
the baby
. I wonder if they’ll still call him
the baby
when he starts school. I feel sorry for him if they do.

Aunt Diana shoved the baby at the Great One. “Abigail, would you hold him for a minute?”

“I
knew
you’d want me to babysit,” the Great One said.

As soon as the Great One took the baby, the baby started to cry. The Great One patted him on the back. “You’re going to like me soooo much,” she cooed.

The baby cried louder.

“I’m going to be your favorite babysitter,” she sang. “You’ll see.”

Aunt Diana wriggled off her red backpack.

Now the baby was screaming.

“Maybe he’s tired,” Aunt Diana said, reaching for the baby. She stuck a pacifier in his mouth. The baby stopped crying.

“Where’s your mom?” Aunt Diana asked. She looked at her watch. “I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Here I am,” Mom said, coming from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I was just getting ready for Olive.”

“I don’t like olives,” the Great One said. She wrinkled her nose. “You
know
I don’t like olives.”

Neither do I, but I didn’t say so. I never agree with the Great One if I can help it.

Aunt Diana laughed. “You’re a picky eater, Abigail. I hope the baby won’t be a picky eater.”

“I’m
not
a picky eater,” the Great One said. “I just don’t like olives. You want to see a picky eater, look at Jake. He only eats white food.”

“Yeah, but I’m not picky,” I told her. “I’ll eat
any
white food.”

“No, you won’t,” the Great One said. “You won’t eat cauliflower.”

“Cauliflower has green stems.”

“That’s enough,” Mom told us. “Aunt Diana is in a hurry.”

Aunt Diana handed Mom the red backpack. “Everything you’ll need is right in here,” she said. “Food, vitamins, toys, treats, brush, special blanket, and a list of emergency numbers just in case.”

“Don’t worry,” the Great One said. “I’m going to be the best babysitter in the history of the world.”

“Olive will be glad to know that,” Aunt Diana told her.

“Olive?” the Great One said. “Who’s Olive?”

I was wondering the same thing.

Aunt Diana opened the front door and whistled. A scruffy old dog walked up to the house. “This is Olive,” Aunt Diana said. “She’s staying with you while I’m away.”

“A dog?” the Great One cried, as if she
couldn’t believe it. “A dog! I thought you were leaving the baby.”

Aunt Diana smiled. “Not this time.”

The Great One looked at Olive. Olive looked at the Great One. Then the dog barked. Fluzzy practically flew up the stairs.

“Maybe Olive will think you’re the best doggy-sitter in the history of the world,” I said.

“Shut up!” the Great One shouted.

But I was already rolling around on the floor and Olive was licking me.

Olive Two

Fluzzy doesn’t like Olive. He’s been hiding in the closet since Olive got here. We think he comes out to eat in the middle of the night. Poor Fluzzy. Maybe he doesn’t like the way Olive smells.

“Dog breath,” my friend Justin said. “We should brush her teeth.”

So we tried. I put plenty of toothpaste on
my toothbrush. But Olive wouldn’t open her mouth.

“We need a treat,” I told Justin. So we went to the kitchen. Olive followed us. I knew she would. She loves to eat.

I got out a treat and showed it to Olive. She opened her mouth, and when she did, Justin got the toothbrush inside. But Olive bit down on it and Justin couldn’t get it out of her mouth.

“That’s
my
toothbrush!” I said.

“Was your toothbrush,” Justin said.

Finally, Olive dropped the toothbrush. There was no toothpaste left on it.

Olive licked her chops. When she opened her mouth I smelled my toothpaste.

Later, Dylan came over. “That’s a smelly dog,” he said, holding his nose.

“She’s a rescue dog,” I told him. “She’s old.”

“What’s a rescue dog?” Dylan asked.

“A dog who needs a home.”

“Maybe she needs a bath,” Dylan said.

So we filled the bathtub. We threw in some of the Great One’s bubble bath.

The bubbles came up so high we were sure they would hit the ceiling.

Olive sniffed them. Some got stuck to her nose. But she wouldn’t get into the tub.
She growled when Dylan tried to pick her up. “Is she going to bite me?” he asked.

“No,” I told him.

“Are you sure?” Dylan asked.

“Pretty sure. Just don’t try to pick her up again.”

“Don’t worry,” Dylan said.

“Maybe a shampoo would work better,” I said, looking at Olive.

“Yes, a shampoo,” Dylan agreed.

“Come on, girl,” I said to Olive. “You’re going to like this.” I dug another treat out of my pocket and waved it in front of Olive’s face. She followed me into Mom and Dad’s bathroom. They have a walk-in shower.

I rubbed some shampoo into Olive’s fur. It smelled nice, like coconut.

“That’s not enough,” Dylan said. “Olive is a big dog. She needs a lot of shampoo.” He grabbed the bottle and poured it onto Olive’s back. I rubbed it in. Olive’s fur turned white and sudsy. “She smells better already,” Dylan said.