Sophie Hartley and the Facts of Life by Stephanie Greene Page B

again! Jolly good!”
    Nora rolled her eyes but all she said was, “So, Mother. How was your conference? Did you find it productive?”
    â€œYes, Nora,” Mrs. Hartley said. “Very productive. Thank you.”
    There was a lull in the conversation.
    â€œWe had a very productive week at home, too, didn’t we, Thad darling?” Nora said encouragingly.
    â€œThad darling?”
Mrs. Hartley mouthed to Mr. Hartley.
    Thad frowned to have the ball suddenly lobbed into his court, but then he gamely smiled and said, “Very productive.”
    â€œMine was very, very, very productive,” said John.
    â€œI think we’ve had enough productivity for the week,” said Mr. Hartley.
    Thad sat up quickly, as if struck with a sudden inspiration. “I think we should let Mother talk about her conference,” he said gallantly.
    â€œWhat did you
do
to them?” Mrs. Hartley asked Mr. Hartley in a low voice.
    â€œI’m tired of the conference,” John said. “Dad let me brush my teeth in the bathtub every night. The water had the dirt from my feet and everything.”
    â€œJohn!” said Nora. “Your manners!”
    â€œHow wonderfully hygienic, Tom,” Mrs. Hartley said.
    â€œYes,” said Sophie, “and Thad, I have to thank you for doing such a good job of explaining the facts of life to me.”
    â€œThad told you
the facts of life?
” Mrs. Hartley said in a faint voice.
    â€œAnd you, Nora, for warning me about big bosoms.”
    Thad choked and spewed out his milk. It sprayed all over Nora. “Thad! You slob!” Nora shouted as Thad bolted for the bathroom with the tail of his tie held over his mouth. She jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair, and dabbed furiously at her clothes with her napkin. “This is my new skirt, you idiot! You ruined it! Oh, and my jacket, too!” she cried, hurling her napkin onto the table. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
    She ran out of the room.
    â€œBosoms!” John shouted. He fell off his chair and onto the floor, where he rolled around, pounding the rug with his fists and shouting, “Sophie said
bosoms
!”
    â€œBack off!” Maura cried, peering with interest at John over the tray of her highchair. She picked up a pea from her dish and put it into her mouth. Then she picked up another pea and dropped it over the edge. “You big bully,” she said.
    Mrs. Hartley and Mr. Hartley stared at each other in amazement.
    â€œWhat went on while I was gone?” said Mrs. Hartley.
    â€œApparently, more than I realized,” said Mr. Hartley.
    Her mom didn’t sound mad, but Sophie wasn’t taking any chances. “You should do what I do, Mom, and become a tree. It makes it much easier.” Sophie got up and stood near the sideboard. Steadying her tiara with one hand, she rested her left foot against her right leg and hummed, “Ommm . . .”
    â€œBosoms!” said John. Maura dropped another pea.
    Mr. Hartley gave his wife a weak smile.
    â€œSorry,” he said. “It fell apart a little sooner than I had hoped.”
    â€œI’m kind of relieved,” Mrs. Hartley said. “I was beginning to think the children had been abducted by aliens and replaced with robots.”
    â€œAnd we wouldn’t want that?” Mr. Hartley said hopefully.
    â€œBosoms,” John croaked. He was running out of steam.
    When Maura dropped another pea, it pushed the Hartley parents over the edge. They burst out laughing. Sophie couldn’t remember ever seeing them laugh as hard. Mrs. Hartley had to use her napkin to wipe the tears from her eyes, and Mr. Hartley took off his glasses and used the back of his hand. Every time it seemed they might stop, John gasped, “Bosoms,” and Maura dropped another pea.
    It was impossible to become a tree under these conditions.
    â€œHonestly,” Sophie said, putting her foot on the floor.