“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.”
“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.”
“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.” ”
“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.”
“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.”