Perfect Peter's Horrid Day

Perfect Peter's Horrid Day “ Henry, use your fork! " said Dad. “ I'm using my fork, ” said Peter. “ Henry, sit down! " said Mum. “ I'm sitting down, ” said Peter. “ Henry, stop spitting! " said Dad. “ I'm not spitting, " said Peter. “ Henry, chew with your mouth shut! " said Mum. “ I'm chewing with my mouth shut, " said Peter. “ Henry, don't make a mess! " said Dad. “ I'm not making a mess, ” said Peter.

“ What?” said Mum. Perfect Peter was not having a perfect day. Mum and Dad are too busy yelling at Henry all the time to notice how good I am, thought Peter. When was the last time Mum and Dad had said, “ Marvellous, Peter, you're using your fork! " “ Wonderful, Peter, you're sitting down! " “ Superb, Peter, you're not spitting! " “ Fabulous, Peter, you're chewing with your mouth shut! ” “ Perfect, Peter, you never make a mess! " Perfect Peter dragged himself upstairs. Everyone just expects me to be perfect, thought Peter, as he wrote his Aunt Agnes a thank you note for the super thermal vests. It's not fair. From downstairs came the sound of raised voices.

“ Henry, get your muddy shoes off the sofa! " yelled Dad. “ Henry, stop being so horrid! ” yelled Mum. Then Perfect Peter started to think. What if I were horrid? thought Peter. Peter's mouth dropped open. What a horrid thought! He looked around quickly, to see if anyone had noticed. He was alone in his immaculate bedroom. No one would ever know he'd thought such a terrible thing. But imagine being horrid. No, that would never do. Peter finished his letter, read a few pages of his favourite magazine Best Boy, got into bed and turned off his light without being asked. Imagine being horrid.

What if I were horrid, thought Peter. I wonder what would happen? When Peter woke up the next morning, he did not dash downstairs to get breakfast ready. Instead, he lazed in bed for an extra five minutes. When he finally got out of bed Peter did not straighten the duvet. Nor did Peter plump his pillows. Instead Peter looked at his tidy bedroom and had a very wicked thought. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he took off his pyjama top and did not fold it neatly. Instead he dropped it on the floor. Mum came in. “ Good morning, darling. You must be tired, sleeping in. " Peter hoped Mum would notice his untidy room.

But Mum did not say anything. “ Notice anything, Mum?" said Peter. Mum looked around. “ No, ” said Mum. “ Oh, ” said Peter. “ What?" said Mum. " I haven't made my bed, " said Peter. " Clever you to remember it's washday, " said Mum. She stripped the sheets and duvet cover, then swooped and picked up Peter's pyjama top.