“Mama are you wearing this one?” Strudel said, holding up my favorite eyeshadow.
“No, I’m wearing some gold stuffs,” I said.
“This is how you open it,” she said, kind of to herself.
“Hey, don’t open my makeup, please!” The little brushes fell onto the floor and behind the toilet.
“I wasn’t opening it.”
“Yes, you did, I saw you. It’s open right now.”
“Well, I didn’t do it.”
I took the makeup out of her hands and put it back in my box.
“Scoot, toots. I don’t want a fibber in here.”
She moved into the hallway and resumed playing with her blocks.
“I’m still in here, Mama.”
“I don’t want to talk to a fibber, how’s that?” I said, finishing my mascara.
“Guess what? You are talking to a fibber right now. Because you said you didn’t want to talk to a fibber, so you are actually talking to one.”
Tags: Here on Fibber Island