"Have a fun time!" Springtime called as she waved one last time before leaving the house.
Today was the day of the big
spring fashion show and luncheon sponsored by Fifi's Perm Shoppe, Lemon Treat's Boutique, and
Creamsicle's Emporium. Springtime
had a tough time finding a foalsitter so that she could attend, but had finally been given a hint by
the princesses: Ask the Bushwoolies for
help! And Chumster, Wishful, and Hugster had been willing to accommodate her need for sitters
for her twins, Baby Springtime and
Baby Melonball.
The Bushwoolies had arrived on time, and were instructed on necessary matters that
might need attention in the two
hours that Springtime planned to be gone. The twins had seemed quiet and almost timid while
their mother was showing the
Bushwoolies around; but once the door closed behind her, things changed.
Baby Springtime and Baby Melonball had been born with the royal symbols: sparkly hair
and a medallion on their
rumps. This meant that at age eighteen, they would officially join the ranks of royalty at the
Royal Paradise. This claim to fame had not
affected Baby Melonball in the least, but his sister had soon learned and made the most of the fact
that she was special and would one
day be a princess, if not a queen. It didn't help that Princess Tiffany often visited the future
princess, and filled her head with noble
ideals.
Seeing this time with the Bushwoolies as a grand opportunity, Baby Springtime let them
know immediately who was
boss.
"Me da princess!" she declared, standing as regally as possible in the center of the living
room. "Me need
throne."
As the Bushwoolies assisted the adult princesses around the Royal Paradise, they saw no
problem in helping the baby
princess as well. Obeying orders came as second nature to them. Besides, they liked to be
active.
"Throne, yeah!" Chumster agreed, looking at the possibilities available.
"This work!" Wishful decided, descending on an autume-gold wing chair in the
corner.
Hugster, Chumster, and Wishful put their joint effort into moving the chair to the center
of the room.
"Throne, throne," they chattered, and Hugster helped the little princess up into it.
Baby Melonball, in the meantime, had meandered off to the kitchen where he sized-up the
feasibility of reaching the
cookie jar on the counter. His planning was cut short, however, as his sister's voice rang out,
"Baby Melonball, where are you?"
Baby Melonball returned to the living room where his sister sat enthroned. "What you
want?"
"You must bow," she curtly informed him.
Now Baby Melonball was not too caught-up in his future as a prince, but he was aware of
the fact that he was his
sister's equal. "Me no need to," he stubbornly responded.
Baby Springtime was temporarily indignant. "To the dungeon!" she decided, and pointed
to his bedroom door. Hugster
and Wishful began escorting him back, but Baby Melonball rebelled. "You no can do dat," he
charged his sister. "Me a prince!"
Tiffany's royalty sessions with Baby Springtime had always downplayed the role of the
prince, which was fine with Baby
Melonball as he'd rather be building castles out of blocks than learning proper etiquette at the
royal table. But it irked him now to have his
sister lording it over him in front of the Bushwoolies.
He turned to the Bushwoolies. "Me a prince!" he repeated, drawing himself up to look
more impressive and pointed to
his symbol. "Me want throne, too!"
The Bushwoolies looked at one another, shrugged their wooly shoulders, and being
accommodating creatures, they
energetically set about moving a second chair to the center of the room next to Baby Springtime
who sniffed and stuck her nose up in the
air as she had often seen Princess Tiffany do. Baby Melongball crawled up into his throne with a
grunt of satisfaction.
Not to be outdone, Baby Springtime called the Bushwoolies before her. "Me need jewels
to wear."
This request stumped the Bushwoolies, but the little filly knew what she wanted.
"Mommy's jewelry box," she
counseled, again pointing down the hallway.
"Jewels, jewels, yeah, yeah, got to get the jewels."
With the exuberance of their kind, the Bushwoolies were soon back with the wooden box,
which they placed on an end
table. Opening the box, Chumster withdrew a single strand of milky-white pearls. "Pretty, yeah!"
he observed as Wishful took it from
him.
He carried it to Baby Springtime. "Pearls pretty," he commented as Hugster draped the
pearls around her neck.
The Bushwoolies were quiet for a moment; there were no diamonds in Springtime's
jewelry wardrobe. It was Baby
Melonball who came to the rescue.
"Glitter on table," he declared as he scooted off his throne; he headed for the kitchen
where some craft supplies were
sitting on the table from an Easter project Springtime and the foals were working on. Grabbing
the silver glitter and the glue, Baby
Melonball returned to his sister. "Glue glitter on,' he said, pointing to her pearls.
"Yes!" she happily replied. "Buss-woolies help?" she lisped with an uncoordinated batting
of her eyelashes. (That
Tiffany!)
"Glue! Glue! Glitter! Glitter! Diamonds! Diamonds!" the Bushwoolies chorused.
Hugster removed the pearls from
around Baby Springtime's neck, Chumster smeared glue over them, and Hugster sprinkled glitter
on top of the sticky orbs. They were a
blur of constant motion.
"Glue wet," Chumster realized as drops of glue clung to his fur. He draped the necklace
over the jewelry case to dry,
and turned back to the other two Bushwoolies. Hugster immediately sprinkled silver glitter on
Chumster's gluey fur, creating a rather
snazzy-looking Bushwoolie.
Baby Springtime squealed in delight and clapped her hooves. "Sparkly Buss-woolie
royalty, too!"
Not to be left out of the promotion, Hugster put glue on his fur and Chumster did the
sparkle dusting. Then Chumster
got the glue and glitter routine done on himself. "Neat, yeah," he grinned.
"Sparkle, sparkle!" the Bushwoolies sang as they bounced around the room.
By this time, Baby Melonball was hungry. "Me hung-gwee," he called out, but between
the Bushwoolies' singing and
Baby Springtime's squealing, he couldn't be heard.
"Me weally hung-gwee!" he tried again with no better luck.
Stomping across the room, he grabbed a golden hand-bell with a wooden handle; it rested
on a shelf near his mother's
reading chair. He swung the bell as mightily as he could, simultaneously calling, "TWIME
OWT!"
It was a tactic his mom used when the twins were out of control. And it was successful at
quieting the quartet of
noisemakers. "Me hung-gwee," he stated again when all eyes were on him.
"Yeah, yeah, hungry," Chumster nodded knowingly. Food was never far from a
Bushwoolie's thoughts.
"Food, yeah, food," Wishful agreed.
"Eat, yeah, yeah," Hugster assented.
"Cookies and milk," demurely ordered Baby Springtime as she regained her princessly
composure on her throne. Baby
Melonball returned to his as well.
The Bushwoolies sparkled their way out to the kitchen, and using the chairs, accessed the
cookie jar on the counter.
Chumster opened the lid. "Oh-oh, empty."
Wishful looked in, too. "Yeah, yeah, empty."
Making sure that nothing was overlooked, Hugster peered in as well. "Yep. All
gone."
Hurrying back to inform the prince and princess of this catastrophe, the Bushwoolies then
awaited further
instructions.
Baby Springtime donned a pouty face, and Baby Melonball looked near tears. "No
cookies?" he asked.
"Nope, nope," Wishful verified.
But from her throne, the princess had an idea. "Buss-woolies bake!" She slid off her
throne, followed by a revitalized
prince. They led the way back to the kitchen, and Baby Springtime pulled open the door where
her mom's recipe file was stored.
"Recipe, yeah, cookies," exclaimed Hugster, rifling through the cards and coming up with
a handful of cookie
recipes.
Chumster scratched his head. "Which recipe, yeah?"
Hugster held up a card. "Peanut butter, yeah, good, good."
"No," Wishful disagreed. "Raisin cookies."
"Coconut, yeah, coconut," Hugster decided.
After several minutes of pulling out cards and then throwing them into a reject pile, the
Bushwoolies had still not come
to a consensus. But the stomp of a petite hoof made the three stop and take note.
Having gotten their attention, Baby Springtime made her royal decree. "Me and him like
chocolate chip cookies."
Suddenly agreeing, the Bushwoolies got down to the business of baking.
"Chocolate chip, yeah, good, yeah, chip," prattled Wishful as he located the flour and
sugar canisters.
"Me like chocolate chip, yeah, yummy," agreed Chumster as he got eggs and butter out of
the refrigerator.
"Yeah, cookies, cookies, yummy, good," sing-sang Hugster, retrieving the chocolate chips
and baking soda out of a
cupboard.
"Oops!" said Chumster as he dropped an egg to the floor.
Baby Springtime giggled. "Slimy."
"Sorry!" apologized Wishful as he spilled a cupful of flour over the edge of the
counter.
Baby Springtime laughed. "Messy."
"Whoa!" yelled Hugster as the bag of chips exploded as he attempted to open it, and
chocolate rained across the
kitchen.
Baby Melonball began rescuing chips, and eating them as quickly as he found them.
"Buss-woolies fun!" he grinned
through a chocolate-smeared smile.
The Bushwoolies regrouped, and eventually had a batch of cookie dough ready to put on
the cookie sheets.
"Oven hot," yelped Chumster as he opened the oven door.
"Use mitt, yeah, yeah," advised Hugster.
"Tray ready, yeah," informed Wishful.
"Dough good," slurped Baby Melonfall after sticking his hoof in the bowl of dough.
"Raw cookie no good," contradicted Baby Springtime, shaking her head and hoof at
him.
Soon, the timer beeped, and the first tray of golden brown cookies were done.
"Look good, yeah, yeah," grinned Hugster.
"Tasty, yeah, good," agreed Wishful.
"Next tray," said Chumster as he put the second tray in the oven.
The twins climbed up into chairs to be close to the cookies. "Milk," decided Baby
Springtime. She almost added,
"Yeah, yeah."
Chumster got the milk and poured two tall glasses for each foal. "Don't spill, yeah, yeah,"
he warned.
The three Bushwoolies and two young ponies soon had polished off the first tray of
cookies.
"Me still hung-gwee," complained Baby Springtime.
"Me got tummyache," groaned Baby Melonball.
"Me smell smoke!" yelped Chumster, running through the black curtain that now
shrouded the oven, and soon
reappearing with a hot tray encrusted with ashen piles of crud which he tossed into the sink.
"Timer not set, yeah, yeah," surmised Hugster as he opened a window to let the smoke
out.
"Cookies ruined, bad, bad," observed Wishful with a sorrowful look on his face.
"Me sick," moaned Baby Melonball with one hoof clutching his tummy, and one hoof
holding his nose.
"Momma's home!" cried Baby Springtime, hearing the front door opening. She bolted
into the living room, knocking her
glass of milk off the table as she went. "Mommy, Mommy!" she greeted her mother with a hug
around her legs.
Springtime stood just inside the doorway, and sniffed the air as she laid a hoof on her
daughter's head. "Do I smell
smoke?" she questioned worriedly.
"Just cookies," shrugged Baby Springtime. "Buss-woolies do it."
"Who moved the furniture?" she wondered outloud.
Baby Springtime skipped across to her throne and clamored up. "Buss-woolies."
Crossing the room to her open jewely case, Springtime raised her eyebrows. She gingerly
fingered the string of sticky,
sparkly beads and asked, "Who..."
Springtime took a deep breath, and walked to the kitchen doorway. Looking into the
room, she gasped. The three
decorated Bushwoolies were attempting to comfort the still-suffering prince. Smoke drifted out
the open window. A puddle of milk had
streamed across the tile to join the splattered egg. Several forgotten chocolate chips melted into
murky pools, and a pastey glob of
saturated flour clung disgustingly to the base of the counter. A frazzled, blackened cookie sheet
was resting in the sink, and one unbaked
tray of cookies sat untended while the still hot oven glowed red with the oven door wide
open.
"Oh, my!" Springtime choked, her hoof moving to her head as if she'd suddenly developed
a headache. "What
happened here?"
"Buss-woolies," chimed Baby Springtime as she peeked around her mother's legs.
"Buss-woolies lots of fun."
"I can see that," Springtime agreed as she went to the stove, stuck the unbaked tray of
cookies into the oven, and
closed the oven door. Setting the timer, she turned her attention to her little colt.
"Cookie dough again?" she questioned, picking him up and packing him off to bed.
To her surprise and complete appreciation, the Bushwoolies were actually cleaning up the
kitchen when she returned.
The oven timer beeped, and Springtime removed the cookies while the Bushwoolies continued
their chores. Checking out the burned
cookie sheet in the sink, she decided to leave that for another day. Then she slumped into the
closest chair to supervise the rest of the
dirty work.
"Mommy?" Baby Springtime tugged at her mother's foreleg.
"Yes, dear?"
"Me sleepy." She crawled up into her mother's lap.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Me be good princess."
"What makes you say that?"
"Buss-woolies do everything me say," Baby Springtime murmurred, her eyes getting
heavy.
"I wondered about that," Springtime smiled as she hugged her daughter tightly. And
I'm going to have to talk to
Princess Tiffany about a few of her princess lessons, she thought silently to herself.
The Bushwoolies worked amazingly fast at turning the kitchen back into its clean, orderly
appearance. Springtime put
the sleeping princess on her bed, and served the Bushwoolies their fresh cookies and ice-cold
milk.
"Your cookies are very good," she complimented them after taking a bite.
"Yeah, yeah, cookies yummy!" ageed the three Bushwoolies in unison.
When they were finished, they jumped down from their chairs and jostled their way to the
door. Springtime giggled at
their constant activity and good humor. "Thanks for your help!" she called sincerely.
"Help, yeah, anytime!" replied Chumster.
"Help, fun, yeah, fun!" called Hugster.
"Yeah, yeah," agreed Wishful.
Watching until they were gone from sight, Springtime closed the door. And the twins
were so exhausted from their time
with the Bushwoolies that they didn't wake up until suppertime. Not a bad day after all!