Isabelle Fletcher woke up to the sound of footsteps up the old wooden steps leading up to the high bedroom. Papa was home! Papa opened the door.
“High Izzy!” he said.
“Papa!” Isabelle exclaimed. “What a surprise! Mama said you wouldn’t be home ‘till next week!” Her face turned serious. “Did Mama lie?” Papa laughed.
“No, Mama didn’t lie. I wasn’t expecting to be home until next week. But they let me off early. Apparently, you can’t work with a broken toe.”
“Well, that’s stupid. I can work with a broken toe. I helped make the classroom rule poster with a broken toe. Surely an adult can work with a broken toe.”
“I agree, but let’s not use the word ‘stupid’. It’s not polite.”
Ugh. Isabelle’s Papa was always lecturing her on how to behave, how to be polite, and other boring things like that. Isabelle didn’t want to be perfect!
Of course, she was trying to be as good as possible. After all, it was hard not to be when there was the prospect of a visit from her best friend, Anastasia, at the end of the week. But only, of course, if she was good. Isabelle tried her best. But apparently, her best wasn’t good enough.
“Okay. I’ll try not,” she said.
“Good. Now, have you completed your lessons for today?”
Of course, he had to mention the lessons. The stupid, boring lessons. Ugh.
“No, not yet Papa. I still have to finish arithmetic. But then I’ll be finally done!”
“Well then, you’d better get to finishin’ that arithmetic of yours.”