Mess by Molly

Next week is my golden birthday.  I turn 6. My parents promised they will be home from vacation to celebrate together.    Until then we’re stuck at Aunt P and Uncle S’s new house on 8^th street in Fargo near Lindenwood Park which has a playground.  We are homesick because they have no food or toys at their house. 

P is my godmother.  We roller skate on Saturday mornings and hold hands around the rink while lights flash.  She loves the Dukes of Hazzard TV song and I like the Hokey Pokey.  Aunt P says, “the Hokey Pokey is a real hoot don’t cha know.”  We all dance together in a straight line and roller-skate on the floor putting our left feet in, our left feet out and then we shake it all about. 

Last night we talked to mom on the phone.  I used the white kitchen phone on the wall with a long springy cord and Erin talked upstairs from the phone in my Aunt and Uncle’s bedroom.  Erin cried, tattling about there being no snacks.  I let Aunt P listen to that part.  She got mad and took us straight to Piggly Wiggly after and let us buy Snickers bars. 

I am in first grade at Nativity school which we walk to from Aunt P’s house.  Today I have a spelling test in school, and I am scared because I didn’t practice my words like I normally do with my mom.  She says I am the smartest girl in school.  

Aunt P helps me with my snow boots, red jacket, hat, and mittens.  The sidewalk is slippery. My classroom is next to the door where we go out for recess and is full of art.  Miss Madison, my normal teacher, is gone today.   The substitute teacher has brown curly hair and red lips.   On the green chalkboard below the big alphabet letters is her name; Mrs. C.    She orders us to sit in our seats.   

My desk is in the middle of the classroom near the overhead projector.  Mrs. C stands next to it and writes our spelling words with a blue marker to practice.  I worry I won’t remember the words during the test, so I write them on the left-hand side of my desk with my number 2 pencil.   

Mrs. C passes out pieces of paper for us and then says each word slowly.  I know the words and don’t need to look at my desk.  I hand my test to her as she walks by.  She gets mad and says loudly,   

“You wrote the words on your desk.  That is CHEATING. As punishment, no recess today.  You will wash all the desks with Windex until they shine.  AND…. I am going to call your mother.”   

The other kids stare at me.  My face feels hot and red.  I start to cry because I never get in trouble, and I don’t want her to call my mom.   

 “But my mom’s not here.”

 “We’ll discuss that later.”

At recess, I go to Mrs. C’s desk.  She hands me Windex and a rag to clean.  She asks if I know how to clean and I say yes my mom makes us clean at home.  I explain my mom won’t be home for a week.   She says she will get a hold of my mom.

My stomach hurts. Now I have to wait a whole week for my mom to find out I cheated.   On my birthday.

The days pass slowly.  I spend time thinking about how mad my mom is going to be.  Will she take me ice skating again with hot chocolate and marshmallows afterwards?  Will she give my toys away to poor children like she says she’s going to do during Christmas when we are naughty? 

At last, its my birthday. We ride in the backseat of my uncle’s suburban to the Fargo airfield to get my parents.  I am so scared I can’t speak. 

My mom runs to the car, beautiful and tan.  She sings happy birthday.  She says she has the world’s best surprise for me at home.  I can’t take it anymore, so I start crying and tell her I cheated –and that the teacher is going to call.    

Aunt P says:  “She wrote you a note.  I’ll give it to you later.” 

Mom says, “Let’s not worry about it now. I want to show you your surprise.”

I don’t understand why my mom isn’t mad at me.   I have been waiting to get in trouble for a week.

We drive to our white two-story house with green shutters and a white willow tree.  My mom tells me to close my eyes and hold her hand as we walk up the green carpeted stairs to my room. 

“Open your eyes.” 

 Gone is my Holly Hobby wallpaper and single bed with Strawberry Shortcake blanket and Raggedy Ann dolls.  There is new blue and white wallpaper with flowers and a big double bed with drawers to store toys.   The covers match the wallpaper.   Three wood dressers and a triangular white desk are in the corner.  

“We wanted to keep this a secret from you.  People worked last week to redo your bedroom into a big girl’s room.  Isn’t this wonderful?  Do you love your golden birthday surprise?  You are 6 years old.  You are a big girl now.”

Being a big girl brings big girl problems because all I can think is how naughty I am and I got a present.   I don’t feel excited about my room. My sister does though; she is running around, jumping up and down on the bed. I don’t understand why my mom isn’t mad at me.

“Don’t you love it?”

“Yes I love it I say but what is going to happen to me about the spelling test?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you Molly. Happy Birthday!”

POSTSCRIPT: 

I learned 40 years later that the note Mrs. C wrote said:

 “Opps, your daughter was caught copying spelling words down on her desk before the test.  I kept her inside for recess to clean the desks.  Next time please make sure she knows better.”

My mom knew of Mrs. C. via friends and was annoyed, so she circled the Opps with a red marker and wrote back:  “It looks like someone else needs to practice their spelling.”