family can do. There is a moment of crisis when Isaac’s tomato ketchup oozes perilously close to his peas – he cannot stand bits of his food touching each other and has been known to leave the table in a strop if this happens. However, disaster is averted when I leap to the rescue and spoon up the excess sauce before it reaches the vegetables – and nicely land myself back in the parental good books, so a success all round.
After tea we do our jobs. Isaac checks the chart and happily informs me that it’s my turn to dry up. He races through the washing-up with surprising speed – usually he has to make sure that each plate has been scrubbed thirty-five times or something, and then dashes into the living room to put the TV
on. It takes me ages to finish the drying but I don’t mind because I’m still feeling pretty guilty about being unkind to Isaac.
I finally finish and walk into the living room where I stop dead in the middle of the floor. I can’t believe it! There, on
my
side of the sofa, where I always sit to watch television, is Isaac’s box. His grubby, smelly box, that I demanded he move, is sitting in pride of place and resting on my favourite, comfy cushion. And Isaac is sitting upright next to it, watching excitedly for my reaction.
‘What? Not OK! Mum, Dad –
tell him
!’ I squeal.
Isaac bursts out laughing and Mum and Dad join in. I stand with my hands on my hips for a few more seconds and then start giggling. I walk over to Isaac and give him a high-five before settling down on the floor, which is where I spend the rest of the evening. Every now and again, one of us will look over at the box and start sniggering again. In the ad break I fetch my camera and take a picture of Dad pointing at the box and laughing. That can be ‘amused’.
It’s the best evening we’ve had in ages and all because of my brother. You see, Isaac doesn’t do joking. With Isaac, it either ‘is’ or it ‘isn’t’, and jokes
are based on ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’. He was mad at me, but while he counted to twenty he thought of a way to get me back that was
funny
. It might not be the best joke you’ve ever heard, but in my family it’s the most hilarious thing we’ve ever seen Isaac do.
That makes today a pretty good day. I’m starting to think I might have got it wrong about Mum and Dad too – surely two people who laugh like that together can’t have fallen out of love?
I’m in a bad mood. Things are getting really weird around here, and that’s saying something for Family Weirdness from Weirdsville. Mum and Dad aren’t arguing any more, but Mum is constantly exhausted and Dad looks really stressed out. I came in from school the other day and he was in the hall, talking to someone on the phone. He sounded upset and when he saw me he looked really guilty and said goodbye and hung up quickly. I asked him who he was talking to and he said it was Aunt Leah – so why did he look worried when he saw me? On the upside, there’ve been loads of chances to take photos of different emotions – I’ve got ‘tired’ and ‘cross’ and ‘frustrated’, and yesterday I got ‘worried’. Nobody has shown ‘excited’, though, so I had to set my camera up with a timer and act that one out myself.
Mum and Dad are out now – I’m not sure where – and Isaac is, as usual, in his room. I am super-bored. There’s nothing to do around here and Alice has gone away with her dad for the weekend. Earlier I printed all my photos and pinned them up in a row on the kitchen wall, next to the huge wall planner that shows every detail of our family’s life. I made a label for each photo so that Isaac can tell at a glance how we are all feeling. Those drawings that he used to have were rubbish; I’m not surprised that they didn’t teach him anything. Mum found them for me when I told her exactly what my idea was, and I know that I have
never
seen anyone with a face like some of those faces. Honestly, the guy who
After tea we do our jobs. Isaac checks the chart and happily informs me that it’s my turn to dry up. He races through the washing-up with surprising speed – usually he has to make sure that each plate has been scrubbed thirty-five times or something, and then dashes into the living room to put the TV
on. It takes me ages to finish the drying but I don’t mind because I’m still feeling pretty guilty about being unkind to Isaac.
I finally finish and walk into the living room where I stop dead in the middle of the floor. I can’t believe it! There, on
my
side of the sofa, where I always sit to watch television, is Isaac’s box. His grubby, smelly box, that I demanded he move, is sitting in pride of place and resting on my favourite, comfy cushion. And Isaac is sitting upright next to it, watching excitedly for my reaction.
‘What? Not OK! Mum, Dad –
tell him
!’ I squeal.
Isaac bursts out laughing and Mum and Dad join in. I stand with my hands on my hips for a few more seconds and then start giggling. I walk over to Isaac and give him a high-five before settling down on the floor, which is where I spend the rest of the evening. Every now and again, one of us will look over at the box and start sniggering again. In the ad break I fetch my camera and take a picture of Dad pointing at the box and laughing. That can be ‘amused’.
It’s the best evening we’ve had in ages and all because of my brother. You see, Isaac doesn’t do joking. With Isaac, it either ‘is’ or it ‘isn’t’, and jokes
are based on ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’. He was mad at me, but while he counted to twenty he thought of a way to get me back that was
funny
. It might not be the best joke you’ve ever heard, but in my family it’s the most hilarious thing we’ve ever seen Isaac do.
That makes today a pretty good day. I’m starting to think I might have got it wrong about Mum and Dad too – surely two people who laugh like that together can’t have fallen out of love?
I’m in a bad mood. Things are getting really weird around here, and that’s saying something for Family Weirdness from Weirdsville. Mum and Dad aren’t arguing any more, but Mum is constantly exhausted and Dad looks really stressed out. I came in from school the other day and he was in the hall, talking to someone on the phone. He sounded upset and when he saw me he looked really guilty and said goodbye and hung up quickly. I asked him who he was talking to and he said it was Aunt Leah – so why did he look worried when he saw me? On the upside, there’ve been loads of chances to take photos of different emotions – I’ve got ‘tired’ and ‘cross’ and ‘frustrated’, and yesterday I got ‘worried’. Nobody has shown ‘excited’, though, so I had to set my camera up with a timer and act that one out myself.
Mum and Dad are out now – I’m not sure where – and Isaac is, as usual, in his room. I am super-bored. There’s nothing to do around here and Alice has gone away with her dad for the weekend. Earlier I printed all my photos and pinned them up in a row on the kitchen wall, next to the huge wall planner that shows every detail of our family’s life. I made a label for each photo so that Isaac can tell at a glance how we are all feeling. Those drawings that he used to have were rubbish; I’m not surprised that they didn’t teach him anything. Mum found them for me when I told her exactly what my idea was, and I know that I have
never
seen anyone with a face like some of those faces. Honestly, the guy who
Similar Books
