“Joey, time for lunch!” Gertrude called into the backyard to her ten-year-old grandson.
“Coming, Grandma,” Joey roared as he rounded the corner of the house and streaked past her onto the back breezeway.
Gertrude smiled and closed the door after him. She shuffled back toward the kitchen. “Wash you hands, boy!” she hollered.
“I am, Grandma!” he replied, but she could hear the chair scoot across the floor as he stood and scampered down the hall to the bathroom. That boy would never change!
By the time Joey returned and plopped down at the kitchen table, Gertrude had set out two sandwiches, each accompanied by a frosty glass of milk.
“So, how was your morning?” Gertrude asked when they were both seated.
“It was fine,” Joey said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Me and Timmy climbed the tree and dropped helicopters to see where they would land.”
Gertrude put a hand to her chest. “You be careful up in that old maple, Joey!”
“We always are, Grandma.” His eyes flashed to the open window where a loaf of bread and two blueberry muffins stood cooling.
Gertrude followed his gaze and grinned. “Well, alright, then.” She tapped the table lightly. “Eat up now, and you can have a muffin for dessert.”
“Oh, boy!” He tore off another bite of food.
“Say,” Gertrude continued, “I could have sworn I put out three muffins, Joey. You didn’t happen to see somebody come by and take one, did you?”
Joey gulped, face red. “Uh … I think a bird swooped down and stole it, Grandma.” He cast sheepish eyes at her, checking to see if she believed him.
“I knew it!” Gertrude slapped the table, and Joey jumped in his chair. “That rascally bird has been stealing my goodies forever … since you started walking.”