“Good for you.”
“Good for us, ” said Alex. Everybody laughed, even Mom.
I think they actually liked the fondue. Even Alex said it was way better than Chinese takeout. I couldn’t help it, though — I kept half-expecting to find a rubber ear à la Joey floating in the cheese glop.
I guess she was too busy with her Bump-into-Scott routine. We planned it that Joey would sit next to Scott Towel. Even better, it turns out he’s left-handed and Joey’s right-handed. “Like normal people and NON-boys,” Joey pointed out. So it was perfect for bumping elbows.
“If you’re left-handed, it means you’re creative,” said Alex. “An artist.”
“I think it just means you bump into stuff more,” said Joey. “See?” She bumped Scott’s elbow, trying to get him to drop his fondue off the fork.
After that, every time Scott Towel (a.k.a. Scotch Tape) reached for the fondue, Joey went BUMP!
The Boy scooched his chair closer to Alex.
As soon as Mom and Dad weren’t looking, Joey bumped his elbow again, then played innocent. Still nothing happened.
The Boy gave Joey a “Cut it out” look, but he didn’t say it out loud. He just took a sip of water.
I tried to signal Joey, to make my eyes say, “It’s not working! Do it again!”
That’s when it happened.
The Boy had a hunk of bread on the end of his fork. He dipped it in the cheese and started to lift it out. He waited for a second while the cheese went drip, drip, drip, and just at that exact moment, I saw Joey go in for the kill.
BUMP!
His cheesy bread slipped and fell and landed — PLOP! — right smack-dab in the middle of the cheesy cheese.
I looked at Joey. Joey looked at me.
Scott Towel was still chasing his cheese lump around the pot, hoping he wouldn’t get caught.
“LOOK!” shouted Joey, pointing to the lump in the pot.
“Empty fork!” I shouted. “Empty fork!”
“Uh-oh. Bad news,” said Dad. “Looks to me like he dropped it.”
“I didn’t — really it was — she bumped me!” He pulled his fork out of the fondue pot and knocked over his glass of water.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s OK,” Mom said, handing him paper-towel napkins to sop up all the dripping water.
“Alex first!” Joey shouted. “Kiss Alex first!”
Scott Towel turned tomato-red, worse than Pizza Fondue. He pretended to wipe up some more water drips and disappeared under the table. Nobody knew what to do. Alex looked like she might cry. Joey pushed back the tablecloth to see what he was doing under there.
Finally, Scott pulled his head out from under the table. On the way back up, he accidentally bumped into Joey’s ear — with his lips!
Everybody was silent. Like the whole family had turned to stone.
“Bluck! Frog lips!” Joey yelled. She actually said frog lips ! No lie. Then she got up from the table and ran to our room.
Without dessert.
I, Middle Sister, Glue Girl, ran after her.
I had to make sure Joey was OK (not to mention saving my own life). After all, neither of us ever thought this would end up with Joey getting a big, wet, boy ear-smooch.
“Open up!” I banged on the door to our room. Nothing.
I looked down the hall, at the stairs, trying to think of how to get Joey to open the door before Alex caught up with us. “Hey, Joey! Let me in! Hurry up, before Frog Lips plants a wet one on me.”
Click! Joey opened the door.
“Phew, that was close,” I said to Joey.
“It’s too late for me,” Joey said, still swiping at her ear with her sleeve.
“Just think of it like . . . a doggie slurp,” I suggested.
“Ye-ah. A Scotty dog!” She gave her ear one last swipe, then went back to scribbling in that notebook of hers.
“Look what I’m making!” She held up a NO KISSING sign. A pair of lips with a big red circle and stripe through it.
Against my better instincts, we laughed ourselves silly just thinking about the look on Scott Towel’s face.
“Maybe I should draw an ear with a red
“Good for us, ” said Alex. Everybody laughed, even Mom.
I think they actually liked the fondue. Even Alex said it was way better than Chinese takeout. I couldn’t help it, though — I kept half-expecting to find a rubber ear à la Joey floating in the cheese glop.
I guess she was too busy with her Bump-into-Scott routine. We planned it that Joey would sit next to Scott Towel. Even better, it turns out he’s left-handed and Joey’s right-handed. “Like normal people and NON-boys,” Joey pointed out. So it was perfect for bumping elbows.
“If you’re left-handed, it means you’re creative,” said Alex. “An artist.”
“I think it just means you bump into stuff more,” said Joey. “See?” She bumped Scott’s elbow, trying to get him to drop his fondue off the fork.
After that, every time Scott Towel (a.k.a. Scotch Tape) reached for the fondue, Joey went BUMP!
The Boy scooched his chair closer to Alex.
As soon as Mom and Dad weren’t looking, Joey bumped his elbow again, then played innocent. Still nothing happened.
The Boy gave Joey a “Cut it out” look, but he didn’t say it out loud. He just took a sip of water.
I tried to signal Joey, to make my eyes say, “It’s not working! Do it again!”
That’s when it happened.
The Boy had a hunk of bread on the end of his fork. He dipped it in the cheese and started to lift it out. He waited for a second while the cheese went drip, drip, drip, and just at that exact moment, I saw Joey go in for the kill.
BUMP!
His cheesy bread slipped and fell and landed — PLOP! — right smack-dab in the middle of the cheesy cheese.
I looked at Joey. Joey looked at me.
Scott Towel was still chasing his cheese lump around the pot, hoping he wouldn’t get caught.
“LOOK!” shouted Joey, pointing to the lump in the pot.
“Empty fork!” I shouted. “Empty fork!”
“Uh-oh. Bad news,” said Dad. “Looks to me like he dropped it.”
“I didn’t — really it was — she bumped me!” He pulled his fork out of the fondue pot and knocked over his glass of water.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s OK,” Mom said, handing him paper-towel napkins to sop up all the dripping water.
“Alex first!” Joey shouted. “Kiss Alex first!”
Scott Towel turned tomato-red, worse than Pizza Fondue. He pretended to wipe up some more water drips and disappeared under the table. Nobody knew what to do. Alex looked like she might cry. Joey pushed back the tablecloth to see what he was doing under there.
Finally, Scott pulled his head out from under the table. On the way back up, he accidentally bumped into Joey’s ear — with his lips!
Everybody was silent. Like the whole family had turned to stone.
“Bluck! Frog lips!” Joey yelled. She actually said frog lips ! No lie. Then she got up from the table and ran to our room.
Without dessert.
I, Middle Sister, Glue Girl, ran after her.
I had to make sure Joey was OK (not to mention saving my own life). After all, neither of us ever thought this would end up with Joey getting a big, wet, boy ear-smooch.
“Open up!” I banged on the door to our room. Nothing.
I looked down the hall, at the stairs, trying to think of how to get Joey to open the door before Alex caught up with us. “Hey, Joey! Let me in! Hurry up, before Frog Lips plants a wet one on me.”
Click! Joey opened the door.
“Phew, that was close,” I said to Joey.
“It’s too late for me,” Joey said, still swiping at her ear with her sleeve.
“Just think of it like . . . a doggie slurp,” I suggested.
“Ye-ah. A Scotty dog!” She gave her ear one last swipe, then went back to scribbling in that notebook of hers.
“Look what I’m making!” She held up a NO KISSING sign. A pair of lips with a big red circle and stripe through it.
Against my better instincts, we laughed ourselves silly just thinking about the look on Scott Towel’s face.
“Maybe I should draw an ear with a red
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