Okay, so I didn’t make my bed this morning and my mom’s on the warpath. Of course, I’ve forgotten four other times this month to make my bed. But what can I say? I’m a teenager with a very active social life. Which brings me back to the problem at hand. You see, if I don’t come up with a good reason why I didn’t make my bed, I’m grounded. And what 16 year old wants to be grounded on a Saturday night?
I know, I should have just made my bed. But I didn’t, so instead of crying over spilled milk, I need to focus. I’ve used almost every plausible excuse I had. But being grounded was not an option. So it was time to break out the almost believable excuses and pray really hard and hope to get my mom on a not so bad day.
I felt sweat trickle down the side of my face. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway. I recognized the tap tap of her heeled shoes on the wood floor as they neared my room. Only a second left and….
I grabbed the sheets and ripped them all from my bed. I looked up, smiling brightly, “Hey, mom! I didn’t know you were home already.” Her eyes narrowed on me suspiciously. Her back was ramrod straight, and she crossed her arms in that instinctive way mothers have. “What are you doing to your bed?” she asked pointedly.
“Uh, oh, this?” I asked as innocently as I could. I should try out for drama. My acting was out of this world. “I decided to change my sheets, you know, make your life easier and all that.” I tugged the cases off, proving my point.
“Uh huh.” she said, standing there in my doorway. She started to nod. “You’re going to wash those too right?”
I nodded vigorously in return. “Of course!” I used my most offended voice. “Wouldn’t be much help if I just left the mess for you, would it?”
“Good.” She said with satisfaction. “Can you do your brothers and mine, too?”
What? Why couldn’t they…I started to fume. Ohhhh, so she was trying to trap me. My sweet loving mother was a sly lady. I was so proud. “Sure, mom.” My smile was no longer one of guilty innocence but as shrewd as hers. Finally, she backed out of the doorway.
“Okay, thanks sweetie.” She poked her head back in the door. “And since you’re going to wash all the sheets, I won’t ground you for forgetting to make your bed.”
My mouth dropped open. I had thought for sure…”You knew?” I whispered when I found my voice. “Yep,” she answered smugly. “I’m a mother…I know everything.”
(This post is created in response to a Writer’s Digest writing prompt. The prompt was to write about forgetting to make a bed and mom is going to ground if she finds out. Word Count 500 or less.)
