“Mom opened her arms and Fudge jumped into them. He rested his head on Mom’s shoulder, shoved his fingers into his mouth, and slurped on them. I know it’s stupid, but just for a minute I wished I could be Mom’s baby again, too.”
“That night I showed my mother and father our new poster. They thought it was great. Especially our silver-sparkle airplane. My mother put the poster on top of the refrigerator so it would be safe until the next day, when I would take it to school.”
“The next day my mother dragged Fudge to Dr. Cone’s office. He told her to leave him alone. That Fudge would eat when he got hungry.
I reminded my mother that I’d told her the same thing—and for free. But I guess my mother didn’t believe either one of us because she took Fudge to see three more doctors.”
“We had an eater, a biter, and a crier. I thought that two-thirty would never come. I also thought my mother was slightly crazy for dreaming up the party in the first place. “Doesn’t Fudge have any normal friends?” I whispered.
“There’s nothing wrong with Fudgie’s friends,” my mother whispered back. “All small children are like that.” ”
“Sometimes my mother laughs like crazy at my jokes. Other times she pretends not to get them. And then, there are times when I know she gets them but she doesn’t seem to like them. This was one of those times. So I decided no more jokes until after dinner.”
“Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “how could you?”
” “How could I what, Peter?” Mom asked.
“How could you let him do it?”
“Let who do what, Peter?” Mom asked.
“LET FUDGE EAT DRIBBLE.” I screamed.”