On Sunday mornings, we shop at Reading Terminal market: Mom, me, my little sister and Portia Piggy-Smith III. My sister carries Portia everywhere.
We buy fruits, first.
I look for worms in red apples.
Mom picks yellow bananas.
Portia and sister smell orange oranges.
Mom buys chicken. It weighs one pound.
Sister weighs Portia. She is much less.
Mom tries smelly gooey cheese! Yuck!
Sister holds Portia’s nose. A delicate nose, Mom explains to the lady.
Mom takes a jar of slurpy syrupy honey! Yum!
She loves honey with her tea.
I am a bumblebee. I chase Sister and Portia.
Mom says No buzzing around!
There is so much food. I’m hungry.
We watch the pretzel twist.
Mom gets one.
I take a bite. Sister takes a bite. Portia doesn’t like pretzels.
Little sister says Potshaa needs the restroom. Mom says she does smell funny.
We got to the family restroom.
I WANT a whoopie pie!
Mum says we have to share.
As we sit, sister cries and points at Philbert.
Portia is gone. Portia is lost.
We go back to the restroom.
Portia is not there.
Mom says not to worry; Portia knows how to be found.
We go to ‘Lost and Found’ in security.
Portia is there, waiting for us.
We celebrate Portia’s return.
Mom gets a salad.
I get bao buns.
Sister gets mac–n-cheese balls.
Portia gets her favourite: falafel.
And we feed Philbert too!
11 comments
Join the conversation:
CommentMelissa Dodd
Sudha Yadav