“Even though we did,” Brian muttered. “Dad started laughing first.”
He erased that sentence anyway.
Then Reed wanted to spell out all the imaginative, interesting, original things Mom and Dad could say.
“It’s not original if you tell them what to say,” Brian argued.
“Well, you don’t think they’re going to come up with anything good on their own, do you?” Reed asked.
“Come on,” Sukie said. “This is taking forever.”
It was almost bedtime when the three of them walked out of Brian’s room.
“Here,” Brian said to Mom and Dad. He handed Mom their crumpled peace treaty. It had holes where Brian had had to erase so many times.
“‘Roman numeral one. Brian, Reed, and Sukie promise to try harder to be good, if Mom and Dad promise not to yell so much or so boring,’” Mom read aloud. “You should say ‘boringly,’ not ‘boring,’ but so far this sounds good.”
Dad read their second point over Mom’s shoulder.
“Two. Mom and Dad will only yell about important stuff, and Brian, Reed, and Sukie won’t give the same old excuses all the time,’” Dad read. He glanced up, looking relieved. “I’m willing to sign this.”
“There’s one more thing,” Reed said. “On the back.”
Dad raised his eyebrows and turned the paper over.
Reed had written this one.
“‘One day a month everyone will say all the wrong things again,” Reed read aloud.
“I thought the point of a peace treaty was to end the war,’” Dad said.
“Mom said this wasn’t a war,” Reed said. “Please? Can’t we do this just for fun?”
“And sometimes,” Sukie said, “maybe the kids can say the parentspeak, and Mom and Dad can talk like kids.”
She wasn’t going to say the reason why. But telling Reed not to fall off his chair had made her think about how her parents felt. Maybe if they had to talk like kids every now and then, they’d think about what it was like to be a kid.
Dad shrugged.
“I’m game,” he said. “Sandy?”
“Oh, all right,” Mom said. “Maybe one night a month.”
“In that case,” Dad said, “can we have dessert now? I’m hungry.”
His little-kid whine sounded really fake. He was going to have to work on that.
Sukie knew that she or Reed or Brian was supposed to say something like “But it’s too close to bedtime,” or “But you didn’t eat all your vegetables at dinner,” or even “Dessert’s bad for you. Do you want lots of cavities?”
But Sukie was hungry too.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s all eat cake!”
Everyone looked at Mom.
“All right,” she said. “Just this once.”
While they were eating the cake, Reed dropped crumbs on the floor and Sukie accidentally smeared icing on the table. And Mom and Dad didn’t say a thing.
Then it was bedtime. And Brian didn’t say “Aw, just five more minutes,” and Reed didn’t say “But I’m not tired!”
Probably it wouldn’t last. But Sukie knew one thing as she snuggled into bed.
She couldn’t wait for the next wrong-talking night.
Say What? Page 4