Sometimes story ideas just come to me, and I have to get them down before they're lost. This is what happened when I sat down at the computer two hours ago, and the story below is the result of the last 120 minutes. Pictures would really make this story come alive so if there's anyone out there who's an illustrator....let me know!
A Lick and a Promise
by
Mari Miller Burns
Lucy was spending the day with her grandmother. It was Wednesday, and she always stayed with her grandmother on Wednesday because she only went to preschool on days that started with a “T.” Since this day started with a “W,” she was spending it with Grammy.
“Let’s go, Lucy,” sang Grammy. “We need to run to the store.”
“Do we really have to run all the way to the store, Grammy?” asked Lucy.
“No, my dear. That’s just an expression.”
“What’s a spression?”
“E-X-P-R-E-S-S-I-O-N. That just means it’s one way to say something,” Grammy explained. “Now let’s put on our coats.”
Grammy always sang the same song each time they had to bundle up for colder weather.
“’Zip up you jacket, put on your cap. Mister South Wind is taking a nap. Mister North Wind will nip at your nose and freeze your fingers and your toes.’”
“Did Mister South Wind really have to take naps like she did?” Lucy wondered. She thought he probably snored if he did.
When Grammy sang the word nip, she’d tweak Lucy’s nose, and that made her think Mister North Wind was probably too nice to turn her fingers and toes into icicles.
At the store, Lucy smiled at all the chocolate bars and suckers and jaw breakers. She looked over at her hand wrapped in Grammy’s hand, followed it all the way up to Grammy’s face and whispered, “I wish I could have all the candy in the world.”
The man behind the counter said, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a fry.”
Grammy laughed. Lucy looked confused. She’d wanted candy, not fishes.
Just then a sweet smiling lady came over to Lucy and handed her a licorice whip. “Go ahead, Child, it won’t bite,” said Sweet Smile.
“That’s silly,” thought Lucy. “The licorice can’t bite me. That’s what I want to do to the licorice.” She looked cautiously at the candy just to make sure it didn’t have any teeth then she looked to Grammy for a sign that it was okay to take it.
As Grammy nodded, she reminded Lucy, “What do you say?”
“Thank you,” chirped Lucy and sat on a banana box by the meat counter while Grammy visited with Sweet Smile.
As Lucy listened, she heard Sweet Smile say, “Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”
Lucy looked up from her licorice. “How could a pot talk?” she wondered. The thought made Lucy giggle, and the giggle made Lucy gag.
Grammy rushed over, pulled Lucy’s hands above her head and said, “That must have gone down your Sunday throat, Little Lucy.”
“But, Grammy,” sputtered Lucy. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know, Sweetie. That’s just an expression. I think we’d better be going.”
After lunch it was time for Lucy’s nap. Grammy always sang the same song:
” I love you, a bushel and a peck,
a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck,
a hug around the neck and a barrel and a peep,
barrel and a peep and I’m talkin in my sleep,
about you…. about you….
I love you, a bushel and a peck,
you bet your pretty neck I do!”
Lucy knew a bushel was a basket because that’s what Papa always told her she needed when she tried to shuffle the Old Maid cards. But how could Grammy love her like a basket?
One time she heard Papa ask Grammy for a peck on the cheek, then saw her give him a kiss. So Grammy loved her like a basket with a kiss on the check.
She knew all about hugs around the neck. Grammy had told her she gave the best of those.
She knew what a barrel was because that’s where Grammy kept her rain water, but what did that have to do with a baby chick saying, “peep”?
Lucy didn’t think she talked in her sleep, but she never really knew because that’s where her eyes got heavy and she always missed the peck on the cheek Grammy gave her when the song was done.
After Lucy’s nap, Grammy had cookies and milk waiting on the kitchen table.
“Let me just give this floor a lick and a promise,” Grammy said as Lucy munched on her Snickerdoodle. “Then we’ll go rake up some leaves so you can jump in them.”
Lucy wondered why Grammy would lick the floor and then make it a promise. “What are you going to promise it, Grammy?” Lucy asked.
Grammy just snickered and put the broom away. “That’s just another expression, Honey.”
“You sure use a lot of spressions, Grammy. I guess that’s why you’re so sprecial.”
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