Mrs Mummy

From my dear friend Estelle, a delightful short story titled "Mrs Mummy":

-=oOo=-

Once upon a time …
… in a long ago land …
… far away …
… lived Mrs Mummy.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. “Hello, sun! Hello, birds!” sang Mrs Mummy.

Mrs Mummy was very busy. She hustled and she bustled. The coffee was hot. The porridge was bubbling. The sausages were sizzling. Suddenly …

“WAAAAAAGH!” roared Baby Belle.

Mrs Mummy to the rescue!

Tsk, tsk. Poor baby! Her face was flushed. Her nose was runny. Her throat was kind of croaky.

“Never fear,” clucked Mrs Mummy. “Mummy’s here.” And she picked poor baby up and kissed her.

“WAAAAAAGH!” roared Baby Belle.

Mrs Mummy was very busy. She hustled and she bustled. The sandwiches were cut. The flasks were filled. The fruit was washed. Suddenly …

“I c-can’t find my t-t-t-toothbrush!” sobbed Gracie.

Mrs Mummy to the rescue!

“Never fear,” smiled Mrs Mummy. “I can find ANYTHING!” And she set about to look.

She looked high and she looked low. She looked in the toy chest and she looked in the rubbish bin. She looked in the laundry hamper and she looked in the freezer. There were no toothbrushes. She did find her egg beater, though.

“Tick, tick, tick,” said the clock.

“WAAAAAAGH!” roared Baby Belle.

There was a knock. It was Bob-the-Odd-Job-Man-Next-Door. He had come to fix the blocked drain in the bathroom.

“Here’s your problem,” said Bob. And he held up FOUR dirty toothbrushes.

“Ew!!!” said Gracie.

“It was a science experiment,” said Betty-May.

“That’ll be forty-two dollars and seventy-six cents,” said Bob-the-Odd-Job-Man.

Mrs Mummy was very busy. She hustled and she bustled. The dishes were washed. The beds were made. The underwear was starched. Suddenly …

The front door SLAMMED. “We m-missed the b-b-b-bus!” howled Gracie.

Mrs Mummy to the rescue!

“Never fear,” sighed Mrs Mummy, “We can still make it.” And they screeched off down the road.

Mrs Mummy turned the corner. So did a big, yellow grader. The grader got there first. And they crawled off down the road.

“Tick, tick, tick,” said the clock.

The big, yellow grader turned the corner. “Hooray!” yelled Mrs Mummy. And they screeched off down the road. “Oooh, look at the nice policeman!” squealed Betty-May. And waved.

“SHAME!” said the nice policeman. “That will be a hundred and nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents”.

“Thankyou,” said Mrs Mummy in a teeny tiny voice.

“And two demerits,” said the nice policeman.

“WAAAAAAGH!” roared Baby Belle.

Mrs Mummy was very busy. She hustled and she bustled. The beans were sliced. The potatoes were diced. The table was set. Suddenly …

Mrs Mummy didn’t feel so good. Her head was hot. Her nose was sniffly. Her throat was kind of tickly.

“BIM BAM BIFF KAZOOM!” said the television.

“I hate you! I hate you!” screamed Betty-May.

“Well, I hate you more!” yelled Gracie.

“Gigga gaga” cooed Baby Belle.

But she was covered in spots.

“GRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOWL,” roared Mrs Mummy!

The walls shook. The windows rattled. The world fell silent.

“What’s wrong with Mum?” said Betty-May.