By Sarah Durand
Sweet milk, it was just too tempting.
I was sitting on the floor, a big leather chair looming ahead of me. At first I was just innocently playing with a silly rainbow circle that made noise when I shook it, but I quickly grew tired of that and looked around me for something that promised more entertainment.
That was when I saw it – a long pair of legs coming out of the kitchen.
There was nothing strange in that of course, as a matter of fact, it was a daily occurrence (especially with this particular pair of legs – they were always in and out of the kitchen, all day long).
But when the legs came over to the leather chair and sat down in it, the trouble began.
First I peeked my head between his knees and he patted my head with one hand, while holding a funny looking tin can on his knees. I appreciated the pat but I was curious about the tin can, so I reached for it, and he pulled it back instinctively before I could touch it.
Then I realized he wanted it as much as I did, and we were playing a deep game. So I sat down between his shoes and started playing with the laces. Those were fun, but once I had tied them tightly to each other, my mind returned to the bright tin can.
What was it? I just had to know. Did it rattle? Did it wobble? Did it talk? Did it — but what was the use of asking myself questions when I could take it and discover its magical powers for myself, with very little trouble? Outsmarting people wasn’t hard – I did it all the time. The way to get most people was to make loud, lugubrious noises, but Uncle Harvey, as I knew from experience, was impervious to this stratagem.
Cautiously I raised myself up again, and peeked over the couch.
Now he was messing around with the black stick, and the tin can was in between his legs, right in front of my face.
This was my chance. Now or never.
I made a wild grab at it but he squished his legs together and my neck got caught in a trap. I protested against this with my hands until he let go and cupped my chin in his hand to give me a kiss.
Exhausted by the contest, I sank back to the floor, climbed over his shoes, and crawling behind the couch, was as silent as the night.
Apparently he found this very disturbing, because he got up, and made a loud bang.
The thought that he’d fallen over his own laces made me snicker to myself, so I had to put my thumb in my mouth to keep myself quiet. Also it tasted good, and I was getting sleepy…
Without warning, Uncle Harvey leapt around the corner and, putting down the tin can on the floor, caught me up in his arms, laughing through his massive yellow beard.
I still don’t know how he knew I was there. I was being very quiet, and he couldn’t see me behind the chair. So how did he know? How?
“I found you!!” said a loud, scary voice. “You can’t hide from me, goosy, I’ve got eyes everywhere.”
So that was how.
He threw me up and I giggled. That was fun.
He tossed me so high I almost touched the ceiling, which was waaaay up there, like the sky when you played in the grass.
I liked him, he was nice.
But I still wanted his toy.
Suddenly his pocket started singing, which made him put me down immediately, and walk over to the fireplace with his hand to his ear.
Noise always drives them crazy, some way or other.
I flung a cautious look around, made a grab at the tin can, and pelted it for the door hole.
My feet hit the floor like small sacks of potatoes as I raced for dear life down the long hallway, still holding tenaciously to the can.
Looking over my shoulder all I could see was a scary pair of legs chasing me down, like two massive snakes standing upright.
There was only one safe place in the house.
I turned the corner sharply and ran into another door. Oh dear. I slapped my own forehead. What was I going to do? How did these things open anyway? I racked my brains for every time I had seen my parents do it.
It was something up high, something they did with their hands. I stretched mine up as far as they could go and felt around. My hand clutched a knob and pushed and pulled and turned and –
It opened and I fled into the sanctuary, climbing onto the bed and hugging the bundle in it for dear life.
“Ow, ough,” said grandma, laughing as she felt me near her. “Hello there, Emma.”
I closed one eye in concentration. “Heyo, Gwandma.”
“You said my name, Honey,!” she said, astonished. “Honey, those were your first words! What a big girl!”
She was beautiful. She had white hair and a wrinkly face, and her eyes weren’t like other people’s. And since she was invariably in bed, I always knew where to find her.
“Mmmm,” I replied, trying get tin can open. I had figured out that it was meant to be opened, because it made a swishy sound and I wanted to see what color the swishy stuff was.
“What do you have there?” asked Grandma, feeling the tin can. “Feels like a soda can,” she said at last. “How’d you get that?”
I thought a minute but I couldn’t say what I meant, so I just said “Gwandma,” and pressed the tin can into her hand expectantly.
That made her smile. “You want me to open it?”
I nodded my head, but Grandma didn’t open it.
“Honey, I can’t see you,” said my grandma’s soft, pretty voice. “You gotta tell me what you’re thinking.”
Grownups never understand how hard talking is. All I could do was grunt and groan and pull at the can.
“Oh, you want it open, don’t you?” asked Grandma, a small twinkle in her silvery voice. “Can you say the word so-da? So-da?”
“I tink I tan,” I said suddenly, the words just coming.
Grandma laughed even more and said, “You can talk, Emma! And your first words were hello Grandma,” she added, kindly taking the soda can and flipping a little metal switch on top. “I think you deserve a prize.”
Suddenly a bright purple liquid squirted out at us, all over the bed and all over Grandma.
Just at that moment the scary legs came in the door and walked up to where I was sitting on the bed.
“Emma,” said the deep scary voice. “Where is my grape soda?”
I sucked my lip in guiltily and held up the bubbling can. “So-da?”
Uncle Harvey always insisted that that was my first word, but Grandma and I knew better.
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Eleven Worlds 