The Giant Forest - COMPLETED - True to life adventures of preteens.

Big Changes Come in Small Packages

"How in the world can a baby knock on the door?" Prissie asked.

Bart scratched his head.

"How did the baby knock on the door?" Prissie asked again but more loudly.

"Uh. The baby didn't knock on the door. But there's, um, er, a baby here."

"What do you mean it's a baby? How can a baby knock on a door? You ain't, um, aren't making any sense, Bart!

"How did the baby knock on the door? Do you mean child?"

"No, Pris. It's a baby. He, er, she, I can't tell. Well, cuz it's wrapped in a blanket contraption and lying in a box."

Prissie got up and walked tentatively across the room towards the open door. Though she was no taller than a broomstick, and so tiny she could stoop low enough to hide behind a wheel barrow, the floor gave mouse-like squeaks beneath her feet.

"Bart. What are you talking about? Babies and knocks and doors?"

"Look! Down! It's a crate full of baby."

Prissie's mouth dropped open and she gasped. A gust of cold air rushed into her lungs and made her cough so loudly that she startled Bart ... and may have also been the reason the baby started crying.

"I think it's a boy," Bart interjected.

"Well, how can you tell it's a boy from just the crying?"

"Well, I have been wanting and praying for someone to come help me with the building and I reckon this is God's answer."

"Well, I have been praying for someone to come help me with the house upkeep and I reckon this is God's answer to me," Prissie chimed.

"Maybe we should bring the baby inside," they both said in unison.

"Did you see anybody else outside when you opened the door?"

"Nope. Just these two sets of footprints. One coming this way and t'other going that way. I reckon someone left the baby here for us to take care of."

"We knowed we'd be gettin' a visitor at some point but I don' think either of us was 'specting a baby to be the first." Prissie said forgetting to speak with the usual proper grammar that she employed.

"Well, do you think we should look?"

"Look at what?" Prissie asked.

"Shouldn't we look to see whether it's a boy or a girl?" Bart pondered.

"Yeah, I spose we should. You look!"

"Me?! Why me? You look!"

"What if there's a, you know?"

"Silliness lady! What if there isn't?"

The baby began to wail .... and kick followed by the baby's makeshift blanket coming off. The cold air rushed over the baby and it's 'fountain' began to work. Almost straight up went a stream of pee.

Simultaneously, Bart and Prissie belted out, "It's a boy!"

"Quick! Stop the fountain!" Prissie spurted out.

"How?"

Before they could finish their silly exchange the point turned mute. The fountain went dry. The baby, they both insisted when they told this story many years later, grinned, then gurgled, maybe even winked.

However, before Bart and Prissie could decide what to do next, the baby let out a howl befitting a kid goat with its tail caught in its mommy's teeth, rescued from falling over a ledge.

"Food. We should get the baby something to eat."

"Yeah!" Bart rubbed his belly. "I'm hungry."

"Not you!" Prissie pursed her lips the way mom's do when they want to make a point. "For the baby."

"Right. I meant to say that the baby's hungry."

Prissie picked up the baby and rewrapped him in its blanket. Then cuddled him tightly in her arms.

"Don't smother the young'un!" Bart yelled.

"No need to yell. I'll be careful. You're the one I worry about breaking him. I see the way you handle the kid goats. Don't handle our kid that way." Prissie started instructing the new dad.

"What do you reckon we should name him?" Prissie asked with her eyes wide open.

"How about Mort?"

"Mort? What, where in the world did you come up with that name? Mort?!?!"

"Yeah. Mort is that king's name. You know, knights and round table and Camelot."

"You mean Le Morte D'Arthur? The book by that guy Malory. Thomas Malory? Yeah. Yeah. I like that name."

"You like the name Mort?" Bart scratched behind his ear then reached to both sides to pull up his pajama britches.

"No. No. Not Mort. Arthur! Let's call him Arthur!"

"Artie? I like that. Artie? Are you hungry? Goo goo gah gah." Bart tried to make baby sounds.

Prissie thought out loud. "Good gracious. God gave me two babies in one day."

"Goo goo, blip, blop, poo poo, er, pee pee. Oops! I guess I'll have to work on that," Bart rambled on.

Prissie bent over, wrapped Arthur in his blanket which was nothing more than a ripped off portion of a dress from probably a bar dancer, and carried the baby to the bathroom to warm him up.

"Bart! You'd better warm up some milk. For the baby, mind you. For the baby." Prissie looked over her shoulder to be sure she was out of earshot of Bart and whispered to the baby "Goo goo gah gah."

Artie smiled back at her. Perhaps the first smile in his young life.