JUN IOR K ING 'S BUSINESS
THE "REVOLUTION” OF TEDDY By Betty Bruechert
are in this together.” He threw him self on her bed. “God and I,” cor rected his mother, “Well, then, I am sure you will pray and ask Him to help you keep it.” “You bet!” said Teddy, sitting up, “He’s really got to do it!” He was emphatic. “I doubt if anyone could keep a New Year’s resolution without His help,” agreed his mother. “Did your Sunday School teacher suggest this?” “Yeah,” explained Teddy, “Some of the kids wanted to make resolutions and she said most people broke them the first week. She said ‘Why not make just one and tell it to God alone and have it a secret between you?’ So I did.” “All right, Teddy. It’s a secret. So come on down to lunch,” said Mrs. Wilson, who wanted to give her son a big squeeze and a bigger kiss as they went down the stairs. But as a mother of three boys she had learned how little they cared for such demonstra tions of affection. “Never mind,” she promised herself, “I’ll hug and kiss my little Sue all I please.” It was a noisy group about the lunch table: her husband, twelve-year old Bobby, Johnnie 5, and Baby Sue, making her contribution by banging on her highchair tray with a spoon. “Quiet!” said Mr. Wilson, “while we thank God for the food!” As soon as his father finished grace, Teddy shouted: “I made a New Year resolu tion!” “So what?” said Bobby, “Every body does. What’s yours?” “It’s a secret,” answered Teddy. “Big deal,” jeered Bobby, “I couldn’t care less.” At his rudeness Teddy’s cheeks flushed with anger, and Mrs. Wilson was about to stop a fight before it began when Teddy said softly: “I’ll tell you, Bobby, on January first next year,” and Bobby, after having shown his superiority as the older brother, was again agreeable. “That’s a long time to wait, pal,” he said mildly. Johnnie looked at Teddy adoringly. Just now his eight-year-old brother
M o m ,” said Teddy Wilson, aged eight, as he appeared at his mother’s bedroom door, draping him self in one bath towel, and vigorously rubbing his wet curly butch-cut hair with another, “I have made a New Year’s revolution.” Mrs. Wilson, putting the last touches to her appearance before she went downstairs for Saturday lunch with her brood of six, including her husband, whose “day off” it was, looked fondly and despairingly at her second son. “The word is not ‘revolution’,” she said, patiently, “but before we discuss it, will you please finish drying your self after your shower? You are drip ping all over the hall rug. Get into some clothes and I’ll wait for you.” “Okay!” said Teddy, towels swish ing, drops of water following in his wake like a lawn sprinkler. He was back in an unbelievably short time, still slightly damp, his face shining clean. “What is it then,” he demanded, “if not revolution?” “It is resolution,” replied his mother. “To resolve is to determine something, to make up your mind about something.” “What is a revolution then?” Teddy’s bright mind was never satis fied. “Oh, a revolution is many things, like the turn of a wheel, or a war in Mexico . . . ” said Mrs. Wilson. “I guess I mean ‘resolution’ all right,” stated Teddy, “I wouldn’t want anybody killed.” “Well, I should hope not,” agreed his mother, with a smile and a sigh. The sigh was for the really difficult time Teddy gave her. “So you have made a New Year’s resolution,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what it is?” “No, Mom,” said Teddy, seriously, “it’s a secret.” “A secret between your pal Jimmy and you?” she asked. “No, between me and God,” Teddy surprised her by replying. Mrs. Wilson murmured, “Well, that’s fine, Teddy. Only say, ‘God and me’, not ‘me and God’.” “Okay!” said Teddy, “God and me
was his hero; likely next week it would be Bobby. Such is the fickle ness of little brothers! “Please tell me your ’lution,” he begged. Teddy lean ed over and ruffled Johnnie’s hair, “Nope, Buster,” he answered, “This is a secret between God and me.” * Mr. Wilson looked up from his plate. “I am glad to hear that, son, for He is the only One who can enable you to keep it. I have found that out from making and breaking plenty of them,” he confessed. “That’s what Mom said,” Teddy re joined, “I began to keep mine this morning.” After breakfast, Mrs. Wilson gave her orders for the day. “Chores” for herself, her husband, and the boys would fill the day until evening when the reward was a picnic by the lake. Long ago the Wilson’s had decided upon “family Saturdays” with occa sional exceptions for baseball for Bobby and golf for Mr. Wilson. As a rule, household chores were accom plished first, then there was a relaxing get-together. This made for a more restful Lord’s Day when church, Sun day School and young people’s meet ings took up their time. Such Satur days drew the family close together. There was only one real hindrance. It took the form of a redhead named Teddy. “He won’t do the duty as signed to him unless I literally stand over with a club,” his mother re ported grimly, and his father added unhappily, “He manages to sabotage every picnic or other good time by some ingenious disaster that seems de signed by him.” But the Wilsons kept trying. They told themselves that no two children were alike, that few were as obedient as Bobby or as sweet- natured as Johnnie. As yet they were not committing themselves about Sue’s disposition. So this Saturday of the New Year, mother drew out the “ground rules,” as Bobby called them and, fully pre pared for Teddy’s usual argument, be gan to read them. “We will clean the garage today,” she said, “Bobby will
THE KING'S BUSINESS
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