Elizabeth was a Good Girl. Everybody said so. Grandpa David
said she was his Little Princess; Mummy said she was Good as Gold; and even Mr.
Barkowski, the mailman, said she was the Perfect Child. Everybody said she must
be so happy to be so good. And when her Grandma Molly asked, “Are you sure?”
they all said, “Of course...”
For when she came to dinner she ate everything on her plate,
even the sauerkraut. Heaven knows she never spilled her milk or had grease
spots on her dress. She said please and thank you nicely and wouldn’t think of
asking for seconds of dessert.
At school she was the Perfect Student. She did lovely sums
and wrote ever-so-neatly. She never wiggled in her seat or spoke out-of-turn.
Her teacher said she was a Little Angel.
When she went out to play she was Always Good. She didn’t
get mud on her slippers and she was never rowdy. She always put her toys away.
And when she stumbled and scratched her knee, not one tear appeared; she was so
Brave.
But that was before Billie Sue. Billie Sue was Bad.
Elizabeth knew for sure Billie Sue was Bad. You could hear
her racing down the street from a block away, she tooted her bicycle horn so.
Her hair always flew out of her pony-tail in curly wisps and her knees were
permanently green from grass stains. In school she always shouted “I know; I
know!” before their teacher even hinted at the question, and her homework,
though it was always in on time, was smeared with doggie paw-prints, melted
popsicles, or last night’s spaghetti sauce.
Elizabeth was amazed that Billie Sue didn’t get in trouble;
she seemed so full of life that no one seemed to mind. Elizabeth knew that
Billie Sue wasn’t Brave; for when Billie Sue skinned her knees roller skating
she cried loud and long, and even Elizabeth turned her eyes away from the deep
and bloody scratches.
When Billie Sue asked Elizabeth to ride the rope swing over
the creek she said, “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” But she stood and watched in awe
while Billie Sue made a long smooth arc out over the water, returning gently to
her grassy knoll. “Come on, try it!” urged Billie Sue, and before Elizabeth
knew she was moving, she was soaring up into the sunshine like a lark or a
robin. She had never felt so light and free. She lept and swang and soared and
laughed with delight, until she heard her Mummy’s worried voice: “Elizabeth
Jean-Marie! Where have you been?”
Before she even knew it, Elizabeth was Bad. Everybody said
so. Grandpa David said he didn’t know what had come over her; Mummy said it was
all Billie Sue’s fault. And when Grandma Molly said, “I wonder...”, they all
said “Of course...”
For when Elizabeth came to dinner, she refused to eat her
sauerkraut. And because she was always talking about what she and Billie Sue
had done that day, she sometimes dribbled her dinner on her dress. Once she
even spilled her juice as she rushed off to play after dinner. She once forgot
to do her homework when she and Billie Sue chased fireflies all the way to
bedtime. And when she fell off the jungle gym and broke her arm, she cried loud
and long.
The pain in Elizabeth’s arm seemed loud and long too. “Oh,
Dear,” wailed Mummy, “If you had been Good, this never would have happened!”
So Elizabeth decided to be Very Good. When Billie Sue wanted
to build a tree house in the woods, Elizabeth stayed home. When Billie Sue made
Angels-in-the-Snow, Elizabeth watched from the window, warm and dry. When she
saw the children trying to untangle their kites from the trees, she was pleased
to see hers resting on the top shelf of her closet, safe and sound. And when
Mummy made her special Peanut Butter-Chocolate Surprise Cookies, Elizabeth took
only one and said thank-you-Mummy-nice-as-you-please.
Elizabeth was Very Good. Everybody said so. But Grandpa
David said he missed her Little Princess Pranks; Mummy said, “She’s Good as
Gold, but I’m worried about her appetite...” Even Mr. Barkowski asked, “Where’s
Elizabeth? She doesn’t come to meet me on her bike anymore; is she sick?” And
Grandma Molly said,”Mmmhmm. Just as I thought!”
So Grandma Molly made a Plan. “Let’s go for a walk,
Elizabeth Jean-Marie,” she said, “I do believe it’s truly spring!”
“What is it doing?” asked a startled Elizabeth.
“Why, it’s just a momma-bird, teaching her babies to fly,”
said Grandma Molly. And just then, as you would count “One, two...”, two little
birds sailed down onto the grassy knoll. The first flapped its wings and
strutted a bit, as though to say, “Ha! I did it!”
“Scree! Scree!” fussed the mother bird at the last. But baby
wouldn’t budge. “Scree, Scree, Scawk!” complained the mother bird.
“Why is she so angry?” asked Elizabeth.
“I guess it’s because baby’s not being Good,” smiled Grandma
Molly.
“What do you mean, Grandma? Why, it’s just afraid to try!”
said Elizabeth.
“I know about its fear, my dear,” said Grandma Molly. “I
have been afraid too. But fear will keep him from flying. And how can he be a
Good bird if he doesn’t fly? We all need to take some chances once in a while
... even me!”
And with that, Grandma Molly, perched on the rope swing,
launched herself out over the rapid water of the creek. The swing lurched for a
moment as she seemed to lose her balance, and then recovered in a long smooth
sweep back to the little hill.
Elizabeth first gasped and then giggled at her flying
granny.
“Come on!” urged Grandma Molly. “Let’s do it together!” So
they stepped off the hill together on the swing and soared out over the water.
“Say! I think we could get to be pretty Good at this! Don’t
you think so, Elizabeth?”
And so they were.
- by Kit Osborn (illustrated by Linda Orlando; The Child’s Way magazine, May-June 1982, no. 139)
