Philip and the Case of Mistaken Identity and Philip and the Baby (9781597051095) (10 page)

“She’s cute, isn’t she, Philip?” he heard his
father say.

Philip turned. Behind him were his mother and
father, holding hands and smiling at him.

“No,” shouted Philip. “She’s not. I don’t
want to look at her.” He stomped to the stairs and up to his room.
But halfway up the stairs he stopped and listened. He hoped his
shout had not spoiled the baby’s nap.

Philip and Emery checked with each other
almost every day to be sure that they were still friends and to
assure each other that no, they had not yet begun to like their
baby sisters. Philip’s parents were too busy with the baby to
bother him much, so things were peaceful in his house.

But a few weeks later Philip ran down the
street on his way home from school madder than he had ever been in
his whole life. He burst into his house and called out, “I hate
that baby. I don’t want any baby in my house.” Then he pulled one
of Becky’s tiny knitted booties from his school bag and threw it
onto the sofa.

He ran up the stairs, making as much noise as
he could. He didn’t care if he woke the baby or the whole
neighborhood. He didn’t care if the whole world woke up. He didn’t
care if his mother yelled at him. He didn’t even care if she told
his father.

Just as Philip expected, his mother came
running up the stairs after him.

“Was that you, Philip?”

“I hate that baby!”

“What happened?” his mother said with a
sigh.

“I took one of her shoes to school for show
and tell.”

“You mean her bootie?”

“Don’t say that word.”

“So what happened?”

“I told the class how small she was and
showed them the... bootie. They started laughing. The teacher told
them to be quiet. But when I stuck my thumb into the bootie to show
how small it was, they started laughing again. Then, when we were
leaving school, Marty called me the ‘bootie boy’ and Gregory said
it, too. See. Now you’re laughing. I hate that baby. Go away. Go
away.” And Philip threw a tantrum just like the great big noisy
fusses Ramona made in the books his father read to him. When he
looked again, his mother was gone.

Later, Philip’s father came up to his room
and gave him a talking to.

When Philip was alone afterward, he decided
that his father was probably right. It wasn’t Becky’s fault the
boys had made fun of him.

After dinner Philip sat in the living room,
trying to think of a way to show Becky he wasn’t really mad at her.
He noticed the top was off the candy dish and so he took a
Hershey’s kiss. He peeled the silver foil from it and popped it
into his mouth.

Chocolate, he thought. Becky had never had
any chocolate. Giving his sister her first chocolate would show her
he wasn’t mad at her. But he couldn’t let his mother know. She
would probably say something about “good food” and “no candy.” But
just a little taste would be all right. That couldn’t hurt.

But Becky had no teeth. He would have to give
her soft chocolate. He would get a Hershey Bar and put it on his
windowsill in the sun. He’d done that before by accident, and the
candy bar had ended up mush. But it would be getting dark soon and
there wouldn’t be any sun. How would the candy bar melt right? Then
Philip got an idea. He’d put the candy bar under his bright desk
lamp, and that would keep it soft until night.

Philip ran up to his shoebox to be sure he
had a Hershey Bar. He put it on his desk and looked forward to the
night ahead.

~ * ~

“Put that light out,” his father called for
the third time. “It’s after eleven o’clock.”

Philip felt the Hershey Bar leaning against
the light bulb. It was very soft, so this time he obeyed and turned
off the light.

“Now go to sleep,” his father called.

Philip made himself stay awake until his
parents went to bed and the house got quiet. Then he threw his
covers back and went to get the candy bar. It was still gooey. He
also thought to bring along a glass of water and a paper towel to
clean the baby after she tasted the chocolate. Philip smiled to
think how smart he was.

He crept softly down the hallway past his
parents’ room and into Becky’s room. The night-light burning over
the crib was just bright enough for Philip to see what he was
doing. He put the paper towel down and balanced the glass of water
in the corner of the crib. He tried unwrapping the Hershey Bar, but
a lot of chocolate stuck to the paper.

“Becky,” he whispered. “Becky.” Philip
struggled with the candy bar wrapper until, finally, most of the
candy bar was uncovered. As Philip looked at the candy, though, he
saw it do a strange thing. It would not stand straight out like it
was supposed to do but kept drooping down toward the floor. Philip
turned it upside down, but it drooped again. The next time Philip
turned it over, part of the candy bar dropped off and fell on the
floor.

The floor was too dark for Philip to see
where the piece of chocolate landed, but he had to find it. After
licking his fingers, he bent down to search for it. From the next
room he heard his father cough. It sounded like he was getting up!
Philip had to get back to his own bed. But where was that piece of
chocolate? He felt around the floor but still couldn’t find it.
Then he thought,
if I can’t find it, neither can my father
.
That made him feel better, so he took two steps toward his own
room.
Ah. Uh oh!
He’d found the sticky, soft chocolate. With
his foot. The melting chocolate mushed through his toes. At that
same moment, Philip remembered the glass of water in the crib.
Philip hopped back to the crib, trying to keep his chocolate foot
in the air. It was hard to keep his balance, though, and before he
could catch himself, he fell against the crib and heard the soft
sound of water spilling onto the baby’s mattress. He heard his
father’s voice say, “I’ll check on the baby.”

Philip dashed off to his room, jumped into
bed and pulled his covers over his head. A long time seemed to go
by. Then, through his covers, he could see the lights in his room
go on.

“Philip. Get up.” It was his father’s
voice.

Philip peeled the covers down, pretending
he’d been asleep the whole time. His mother was there, too,
carrying the baby.

“What were you doing in the baby’s room?” his
father wanted to know.

Philip rubbed his eyes.

“Philip, cut it out. I want answers. What
were you doing in the baby’s room? Why is her bed wet, and where
did this glass come from?”

His mother added, “What was that mess all
over the rug in Becky’s room? And down the hall?”

“Philip, let me see your foot,” his father
ordered. His father didn’t wait for Philip to show him. He lifted
the covers himself. “Look at this.”

“What is that, Philip?” his mother asked.

“Chocolate,” Philip whispered.

“Chocolate!” his father said. “Chocolate on
your foot! Get out of bed and go clean yourself off. How in the
world did you get chocolate on your foot? Wait. Answer me before
you go.”

“I wanted to give the baby some.”

“Philip!” his mother screamed. “She can’t eat
grownup food yet.”

“Not even grownups eat grownup food at this
time of night,” Philip’s father grumbled. “Was the water in case
she got thirsty? Or were you planning to give her a bath?”

“Just to wipe her mouth,” Philip answered
softly.

“Oh, Philip.” Philip’s mother came over to
his bed and sat down. “I know you thought you were doing something
nice for Becky. But all of us, even Daddy and I, have to be very
careful with such a tiny person as Becky. She can only drink milk
or water from a bottle. That’s all. She can’t eat anything that you
eat yet. She will someday. Then you can be nice and share your
things with her.”

Philip stared straight ahead. He
did
try to do something nice for the baby. But nothing he did turned
out right. That baby was bad luck. That baby was just getting him
into more and more trouble.

His mother stood up. “Don’t worry, Philip. No
harm was done. I’ll clean up, and we can all get back to sleep. You
get to the bathroom and clean yourself up. And try to keep your
foot off the floor.”

Philip scrambled from bed and felt stupid
hopping down the hallway to the bathroom. What was the use of being
nice to his sister if it just got him into trouble? Well, this was
it, he thought as he wet a washcloth. He wouldn’t ever be nice
again. Not in this house anyway. When he foot was finally clean,
Philip went back to his room. It was quite a while, however, before
he could fall asleep.

The next day was Saturday. Philip knew his
father had to work that morning. His mother was taking care of the
baby so Philip was on his own. He roamed the house but couldn’t
find anything to do. Finally, he crept into his parents’ bedroom
and turned on the television.

“Philip,” his mother called after a while.
“Turn off that TV and come down for lunch. Daddy will be home any
minute.”

Philip watched the last five minutes of
The Three Stooges
then went downstairs. Becky was lying in
her little crib screaming, when he got to the living room. Where
was his mother?

“Mom?” There was no answer. He went into the
kitchen but it was empty. He called down to the basement.

The baby kept on crying. Philip went in to
look at her. She was crying so hard that her face was bright red.
Philip was frightened. He hoped the baby was all right. She had her
legs up in the air and her hands were balled into tiny fists. As
Philip watched, the baby’s face got redder, and her legs and arms
waved even more wildly than before. Philip had never heard her make
so much noise.

“Mom!” Philip called again. Except for the
baby, the house was quiet. Philip was getting more frightened by
the moment. Where could his mother be? Then Philip noticed the
bottle of milk on the coffee table. It was full. He touched it. It
was warm. The baby hadn’t eaten yet. Had his mother gone out and
forgotten to feed the baby? No, that was impossible.

The baby was quiet a second, then screamed
even louder than before. Her face was getting redder all the time.
Philip decided he would feed her. He’d seen his mother do it. And
he couldn’t just let the baby lie there crying. Philip bent over
the crib and slid his hand gently under Becky’s neck. He remembered
what his mother had told him about how the baby was not strong
enough to hold up her head, and whoever held her had to do it for
her. Next, he slid his other hand under the baby’s back. Then he
lifted. The baby grew quiet. Her head turned toward Philip.

“I’ll feed you,” said Philip. He sat on the
sofa and rested the baby in his lap, still holding her head with
one hand. With the other hand he reached for the milk and put the
nipple into the baby’s mouth. Becky gobbled the nipple and started
sucking.
Just like a vacuum cleaner
, Philip thought. As
Philip held the bottle, Becky found one of his fingers and wrapped
her little hand around it. She clung to his finger tightly. As she
drank, the baby looked at Philip, and he stared back at her.

He checked the empty living room. No one.
“Goo goo,” he said. “Goo goo ga ga.” He felt the baby squeeze his
finger.
Maybe she likes me after all,
thought Philip. He
wondered if, when she was done, she would smile at him. He had not
yet seen his sister smile. A tiny drop of formula slid down Becky’s
chin. Philip wiped it away with his thumb, careful not to let
Becky’s hand drop from his finger. Philip watched the formula in
the bottle get lower and lower until it sounded like she was
sucking the last bit of soda through a straw. Philip took the
bottle away from her and put it back on the table. He wiped away
the tiny drops of white that had formed in the corners of the
baby’s mouth.

“Did you have enough, Becky? Was it good?”
Philip asked, tickling the baby under her chin with his finger.
Becky found his finger again and held it. Then it happened. While
she and Philip were staring into each other’s eyes, she smiled. A
big smile. A big, toothless smile.
Like a little old lady
,
Philip thought, and it was the prettiest smile he had even seen. He
smiled back and said, “Goo goo.” The baby smiled again and made a
noise that to Philip sounded like a laugh.

“Goo goo goo goo,” Philip repeated.

And she smiled again.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be magic, Flip
Flip?”

Philip looked up, shocked. His mother and
father were standing in the living room watching him.

“Where did you go, Mom?” Philip wanted to
know. “I came down for lunch, and the baby was crying, and you
weren’t here.”

“I was just about to feed Becky when I heard
this awful scream from next door. I put the milk down and ran over.
Mrs. Taylor had spilled some boiling water on her foot. Her son was
there, and I helped get her into his car so he could take her to
the hospital. Then I came right back. Daddy was just driving up and
look what we find. I’ll take her now, Philip,” his mother said,
coming toward the sofa.

“No, no,” said Philip. “I’m okay. Let me hold
her awhile.”

Philip’s father looked surprised. “You
want
to hold the baby? I thought you didn’t want anything to
do with her.”

“I like her now,” Philip said. “Watch. Goo
goo.”

The baby smiled and made a noise.

“Goo goo?” his father repeated.

“Yeah, Dad. Goo goo works every time.”

“Do you really like her, Flipper? I can see
she likes you.”

“She keeps holding my finger.”

“I told you she would. Magic, Flipper?”

Philip laughed. “Magic. Like Fred and Effie,
Daddy?”