Superfudge Part 11

Previous superfudge part 10.

On the morning of the move, Mom woke me at six o’clock. I still had to pack my carton of special things. But first I wanted some juice. I’m always thirsty first thing in the morning. On my way to the kitchen I passed Tootsie’s crib. She was watching her mobile and gurgling away. She was also covered with trading stamps. They were stuck to her arms, her legs, her belly, and her face. She even had one on the top of her head, and one pasted to the bottom of each foot.

“Hey, Mom…” I called.
‘What is it?”
“It’s Tootsie.”
”But I Just.”

I didn’t wait for her to finish. “I hurry up, Mom!” I called. Mom raced in, buttoning up her skirt. “Oh no!” she said when she saw Tootsie. Then she shouted, “Fudge!”
“Hello, Mommy,” Fudge said, crawling out from under Tootsie’s crib. He was wearing his disguise balck eyeglass frames attached to a rubber nose, with a stick on beard and moustache. He’d sent away for it months ago. It cost four cereal box tops, plus twenty-five cents.

“Did you do that to Tootsie?”
“Yes, Mommy.” He was using his best little boy in the world voice.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Tootsie told me to.” He climbed up the side of her crib and reached in, shaking Tootsie a little. “Didn’t you tell me to, good girl, good little baby…”

Tootsie said, “Aaaa….” And she kicked her legs up in the air.
“That was a very naughty thing to do!” Mom told Fudge. “And I am very angry at you.”
Fudge kissed my mother’s hand. “I love you, Mommy.”
“That’s not going to work today,” Mom told him.
“I love you anyway,” he said, kissing her other hand. ‘You’re the best mommy in the whole world. Don’t you love your little boy?”

“Yes, I love you,” she said, “but I am still very angry at you. VERY!” And she smacked Fudge on his backside.
He pouted for a minute, about to cry, then changed his mind. “Didn’t hurt,” he said.
“You want one that will hurt?” Mom asked.
“No!”
“Then don’t you ever do anything like that again. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”

“Hey Mom,” I said, “I thought you don’t believe in forget.”
“Look… it’s okay with me if you want to spank Fudge,” I said. “Personally, I think a spanking a day would be good for him.”
“No… no… no…” Fudge shouted, holding his rear end.
“Why’d you really do it?” I asked him.

“I want to trade her in for a two wheeler, like yours,” he told me.
“You can’t trade her in,” Mom said. “She’s a person… she’s not a book of stamps.”
“She looks like a book of stamps,” Fudge said.
Mom picked up Tootsie.

“Well, doesn’t she/” Fudge asked again, and I could tell Mom was trying hard not to laugh.
“You know something, Fudge?” I said. “You’re off the wall… you are really off the wall.” “Off the wall… off the wall…” he sang, dancing around Mom and Tootsie. “Fudgie is off the wall!”
Tootsie laughed. Either that or she hiccupped. It’s hard to tell the diference.

I followed Mom into the bathroom, where she set Tootsie in the sink.
“Two years of trading stamps, down the drain,” I said.
“Good bye stamps,” Fudge called from the doorway. “Good bye… good bye…”
“I’m not going to find a grocery store that gives away something else.”

An hour later Dad came back with the U-Haul, and we loaded it and were on our way.
As soon as we were through the Lincoln Tunnel, Fudge started singing, “M-a-i-n-e spells Princeton.”
“No, it doesn’t stupid,” I said. “it spells Maine.”
“I know,” Fudge said. “I’m just making up a song.”
“Maybe you could make it up in your head,” dad suggested. “And sing it to us when we get to Princeton. Then it will be a surprise.”

“A surprise,” Fudge said. “I like surprise.” He was quiet for aminute. Then he said, “You know what, Daddy? I’m off the wall.”
“Who told you that?” Dad asked.
“Pee-tah. Didn’t you?” he asked me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I sure did. And you sure are.”

“I’m off the wall,” Fudge repeated. “Just like Pee-tah’s map of the world.” He rested his head against Mom’s shoulder and I could hear him slurping away on his fingers. He was still wearing disguise.

Next superfudge part 12.