Gloves

First Gloves

Helen sat lightly dozing, in the nursery rocking chair holding Mart while he finished his lunch.  The window was open and the curtains were billowing with the soft late spring breeze while the soft whistling of bobwhite quail filled the air.

Thirty month old Brian was standing holding on to the wooden back of an old cane weave chair next to the crib.  The cane of the chair rustled and crackled every time he turned to look at his mom and then back to the crib to watch the baby.  He had been enamored of watching Trixie ever since she came home from the hospital. He became even more diligent once he saw that the baby had learned how to suck her thumb.

Suddenly, Helen jerked Mart away from her breast, saying, "No bite, Mart.  No bite."

She caught Brian's interested gaze and continued with a chuckle, "It may be time as part of his birthday celebration, to teach your brother to drink from a cup.

Helen started straightening her clothes as she mused about the plans for the party later in the afternoon.  "Daddy will be cooking hamburgers on the grill.  I have baked beans to heat in the oven, and potato salad in the fridge.  The Lynches and Mr. James and Miss Nell will be here later and I imagine will play with you boys for a while before we eat.  I have a little cake for the birthday boy to tear into, and a larger cake for the rest of us.  Oh, and  I need to remember to take the camera downstairs so we can get pictures."

Helen was putting Mart down for a nap in his new toddler bed, when Brian suddenly called out to his mother.  "Mommy.  Sissie is bleeding."

She started up and stepped over to the crib.  "What do you mean Brian?  I don't see anything."

"There on her nose.  She is bleeding.  Not much but it is there."

Helen looked closer, and gave a gentle laugh.  "Brian, she is okay.  She just scratched her nose a little bit.  I need to find the baby nail clippers and clip her nails.  It probably would be a good idea to put her in baby gloves, too, so she doesn't scratch herself even more.

Second Gloves.

Helen was weary.  She had thought it was bad when Brian and Mart both had chicken pox at the same time while she was pregnant with Trixie.  Maybe it didn't seem so bad then because Mr. James and Miss Nell spent a lot of time reading to the boys and keeping them occupied.

"No Trixie.  Don't scratch!  Give it a chance, and the nice soothing oatmeal bath should make you feel better soon.

"But they itch, Moms.  Did the chickens give these to me?  You know how the chickens are always scratching around in the coop?  The poxes look kind of yucky like chicken poop."

Helen grabbed Trixie's hands to stop her from scratching.  "Here, lets cover your hands with your socks, and maybe that will keep you from opening the blisters and spreading hem around.  I'll call Daddy and have him stop at the pharmacy for some small medicated cotton gloves.  Then you won't be able to scratch as much, but you will be able to use your fingers to hold crayons so you can color."


Third Gloves

Trixie was anxious to start riding, but she realized deep in her soul that she needed to listen to what Reagan was saying, "You will be fine in your jeans and tennis shoes.  But you have to remember to keep your heels down, so you don't get your feet caught in a stirrup.  Remember!  Keep your heels down.  Oh, and here is an old pair of Honey's riding gloves.  They will come in handy so the reigns will slide through your hands easily and not cause blisters.

Fourth Gloves

Trixie was furiously taking notes as her mentor spoke to her  Crime Scene Investigation course.

"The most important thing to remember when investigating a crime, is not to contaminate the scene before you have bagged all the evidence and taken all the necessary notes and crime photos." Captain Molinson paused  and asked, "Are there any questions?"

As he looked over the class auditorium, he saw the hand.  He groaned.  Trixie was the most determined student he had ever met.  Her question was sure to be good.

Trixie stood and addressed the Captain.  "Sir, I realize that fiction is a long way from real life, but there is something that you never see on television crime shows, and you didn't mention it either.   Isn't it is also a good idea to style your hair so it doesn't get mixed up with the other evidence.  Most male officers wear their hair pretty short.  Female officers with long hair on the other hand, might have their hair pulled back with a plastic band,  but that doesn't seem like it would be quite enough to prevent loose hairs from the officer contaminating the crime scene."

Molinson replied, "Your correct Ms. Belden.  Hair coverings are commonly used in autopsy or a crime lab,  but they should also be used at the start of a crime scene investigation to avoid contaminating the evidence along with shoe coverings and your regulation plastic gloves ."


Final Gloves

Trixie sputtered.  "Oh my gosh, Honey.  I am sure that you and Diana will help me get these gloves on, but how am I ever supposed to get these off after the wedding?   They are too long and tight, and have about a million buttons!"

Diana grinned.  As the only married female Bobwhite, she had intimate knowledge of gloves.  "Trixie,  believe me.  Jim will have more fun than you can ever imagine, slowly unbuttoning each and every one of those buttons on those long silky evening gloves."

Point of View of a Christmas Ornament

I came to live in this house, for Bobby’s first Christmas. I was always thankful for my place on the mantle, safe from baby hands but with a good view of the tree. I watched many a glass ornament be grabbed out of Bobby’s hands and placed higher in the branches safely out of baby reach. I so enjoyed watching the holiday parties held by the Bobwhites, especially the glimpses of each of the boys and yes, even Daddy, catching their special girl under the mistletoe for a chaste seasonal kiss.

After Christmas, I would spend the rest of the year, hidden in the dark corners of the attic wrapped in tissue paper to protect the thin glass skin ornaments in the pretty red and green colors that dressed my waxy core like a fine holiday garment. I would wait patiently for the holiday cleaning before the Thanksgiving Open House, when I would be gently dusted and placed back on the fireplace mantle

When Moms first put me on the kitchen table this year, I was very disappointed. I worried that for some reason I had been demoted from the gaety of the living room. Oh how wrong I was. Maybe it was because Bobby is older, and Moms doesn’t have to worry so much about careless curious hands, but I learned that I had been missing so much fun not being in the kitchen.

I saw cooking and cookie baking. I was able to see the squabbles between Trixie and Mart, and the gentle inteference by Brian which would bring peace between the almost twins. I watched how Mart teased Bobby to be good so the shelf elf would not make a naughty report to Santa. I watched all the Beldens, from Bobby all the way up to Daddy, open the silverware drawer and pull out a spoon and then open the refridgerator and poke their heads in to get a spoonfull of sweet, cold, cookie dough. I wanted to laugh when Moms said that she ought to make extra dough just for eating from the spoon.

And I learned about the family tradition of counting wood.

One day, Moms was in the kitchen on the phone with Uncle Andrew and even a christmas ornament could be detective enough to know that she was talking about Christmas presents. All the Bobwhites were gathering in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go spend an afternoon in the snow. Moms had confirmed Uncle Andrews ideas for everyone except Bobby. Mart and Bobby were clomping down the stairs, and Mart was trying to convince Bobby that if he rubbed his hands together really hard, they would smell like peanut butter. You know, that old trick to get the innocent to slap themselves? But Moms had other ideas.

Moms said, “Bobby, I need to know that we can have a good fire tonight. You go out to the shed and count the wood.” 

Brian, Mart and Trixie suddenly swiviled their heads toward Bobby with huge grins on their faces, but Dan and Jim both looked at Moms in astonishment. Jim volunteered, “We’ll go out for you Mrs. B, and bring in some good armloads of wood.” 

Before the offer was clear of Jim’s mouth, I saw Mart gave Dan a shoulder shove. 

He ordered, “No, I need Dan to help me find the ski wax at the clubhouse.” 

Brian turned to Jim. “I need you, Honey and Di to help Trixie and I with the Christmas lights out front. I think one of the lines is trying to come down.”

I saw the other Bobwhites spin in surprise to look at the older Belden siblings and watched all three of them with huge grins on their faces, and their hands in front of their mouths signalling to be quiet.
Mart wheeled around to Bobby. “Well, go on, get your coat on. And when you get out there, make sure you count every piece. Sometimes little pieces that are good for kindling get pushed way in the back.”

Mom’s returned, “Yes Bobby, all the older kids started counting wood for me when they were ten, but I really think you are old enough to handle the job for me even though you are only nine. Hurry up, and I will have some nice hot chocolate with marshmallows ready when you are done.”

After Bobby went outside, Moms returned to her phone call with Uncle Andrew. “Go ahead Andy, Bobby is safely out of earshot now and we can talk in peace.”

Mart, and Trixie doubled over in laughter with tears running down their face. Brian made the effort to shush them while trying to hold back his own laughter. “If you don’t settle down, he will hear you, and this won’t ever work for Moms again.” 

Brian looked at Di. “You have younger siblings, so you ought to be famialiar with this.” 

Mart looked at Dan, Jim and Honey. “Moms used to use the military phonetic alphabet when she had to say something in front of us kids that she didn’t want us to understand. But when each of us finally broke that code, she knew that she had to instigate the next level of parental subtrafuge. She sent us out to the shed and told us to count wood. Every one of us was gullible enough to fall for it every time.”

You know, if I weren’t sitting around this candle, and if I hadn’t heard it myself, I never would have believed that Moms would be so sneaky.

Maybe during the next year in the attic I will be able to hear some good stories on Moms if she will pack me in the same box with that shelf elf.

Dec 4, 2014: The Sound of silence. Dead silence. Silence is golden.

Her counselor asks, “Why didn’t you tell someone or ask for help? Why did you keep silent?” Trixie responded. “You know, there are so many types of silence. There is silence, which isn’t even real silence.” “Imagine, you are alone in a damp wooded area, like the Wheeler Preserve. There is total silence, except it really isn’t the absence of sound. You hear the wind and it sounds less like a moan, and more like a low whistle. Then you hear the sound of the damp loose leaves skittering and dancing across the ground until they slap into the base of the trees born by the weight of the rain absorbed by the paper thin membranes. You hear the light rain hitting the muddy path, and the occasional splash of the drops into the already present puddles of water. You hear the very light chittering of the birds who are scrambling to huddle as tightly as possible, in hopes that many can help keep the one dry. You may feel, more than hear, the rasp of your breath as you inhale the scent of the rain and the wet dirt. You wish for someone to help you break the silence, but you they can’t because you are alone. Then there is another kind of silence. It is the silence of not talking, because you can’t believe that anybody, anyone listening to you would believe what you have to say. I was fortunate, in a way. I knew that my abuser didn’t believe that he was doing anything wrong, and he didn’t hide his actions.  I couldn't articulate why I was so unhappy. He kept telling me that I was taking risks and getting myself in danger, that I couldn’t be trusted to keep myself safe. He kept saying that he was only trying to protect me, and that is why he would find me in town, and take my keys away and insist on driving me home. Everybody always thought that he was so honorable, and responsible and  because he was open about his abuse, it seemed less like something bad.  I couldn’t believe that anyone would ever listen and believe me when I tried to tell them what he was doing to me. You may feel, more than hear, the rasp of your breath as you inhale the scent of the fear and the threat of the pain. You wish for someone to help you break the silence, but they can’t because you are alone. That is why I lived with the thundering sound of silence.”

Nov 7, 2014: "To the right, ever to the right, never to the left, forever to the right!"No

The cold wind is blowing across the wide open terraces with the rows of white stones that top the undulating hills and give testament to the fallen men and women who have given their lives for their country. Remembrance poppies snuggle in lapels while icy sleet fights for purchase on the already wet cheeks of the family members who have come this dreary, early November afternoon. Everyone is there. Moms and Daddy, Brian, Mart, Trixie and their families as well as childhood friends, Larry and Terry Lynch. And then there is Bobby. Although he wears no rank insignia today, they have all come to witness the recognition of 1st Lieutenant Robert Belden today. Diana leans close and whispers to both Mart and Trixie. “I keep remembering the five little kids practicing their Jody calls and marching commands.” (Fade in. Five kids in white tee-shirts, blue jeans and white Keds tennis shoes.) Forward harch!

Hup two three four.

Hup two three four. You had a good home but you left

Your Right

You had a good home but you left

your right

Jody was there when you left

your right

your baby was there when you left

your right

Sound off

one two Sound off

three four Cadence Count

one two three four one

two

three four Fall In! Atten - shun! A bout Face! Leeeft Face Riiight Face (Fade out) Moms lookes over at the group and frowns as Trixie giggles at Diana's memory. Moms frown only made Trixie giggle more as she spoke of her own memory. “I remember how Bobby insisted on being the Drill Sergeant, and he didn’t put up with any stragglers from either set of twins." Mark groaned. “Yeah, I got so tired of watching Stargate with him because he always complained about the sloppy salute given by Kurt Russell in the movie. Every time, he would say, ‘I don’t care how depressed or disallusioned he was, there isn’t any honest to God career Colonel who would make such a sloppy salute.’ Brian interjected, “And it got even worse after they watched Renaissance Man and started copying all those cadence’s. I think my favorite was Hamlet’s Mama”. All the Bobwhites begin chanting together, “Hamlet's mama, she's a queen.

Buys it in the final scene.

Drinks a glass of funky wine.

Now she's Satan's valentine.” Diana said, “I never would have guessed that would drive Larry to study and then perform Shakespeare.” Dan broke in, “When Bobby got his first command, I wanted so badly to warn his platoon that he had been practicing drills since he was six years old.” Jim asked, “Why didn’t you?” Dan returned with a level look. “Are you kidding me? He scared me. He had grown to be two inches taller than I was and had more muscles than I ever got chopping wood. I had no doubt that if I told tales, he would assign me to KP and make it stick.” The sudden firing of a twenty-one gun salute at a nearby burial made the young mothers hurry to cover their children's ears and hug the little ones close. Then Moms twitched Brians sleeve. “You all need to settle down now. They are ready to start." The whole group drew in their breaths. They all stood a little bit straighter as if they were obeying their baby brothers long ago commands. They watched in awe as Robert Belden took his first turn as a Sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As part of the Third United States Infantry Regiment or " Old Guard", he honored the fallen as only one soldier can do for another. Jody call - cadence rhythm used by soldiers to keep up speed and moral while marching distances. Stargate - No profit is being made from the mention of this movie or of the starring actor, Kurt Russell. Renaissance Man - No profit is being made from the mention of this movie.

Members of the Old Guard wear no ranking insignia so as to not outrank the unknown soldiers.

Oct 22, 2014 Prompt: A scary movie

Trixie stood unnaturally still in the cheerful kitchen  She was wearing a dark shroud like dress while Honey pinned, clipped and folded to complete the alterations of the costume that Trixie would wear on Halloween night.  Honey was fitting the garment so that it would be long enough to cover the hidden gadgets in the clothes, but but not long enough to trip Trixie as she walked around the haunted house.   They were both out of the main path of traffic over near the swinging door to the dining room.  Even though Trixie was behaving well and not fidgeting during the course of the alterations,  both girls jumped as someone suddenly tried to push open the swinging door from the dining room. “Hey what’s going on?” called Brian. “Why won’t the door open? asked Jim. Honey giggled and replied, “We shot the bolt closed because we are working on a project here and didn’t want to get bumped.  You can both go around through the back hall.” When Brian, closely followed by Jim entered the kitchen they were surprised by what they saw.  Not only was Trixie standing on a seamstress stool having a dress altered but Diana was sitting at one end of the kitchen table painting paper mache masks.  Moms and Caroline Lynch were at the other end of the table decorating sugar cookies with orange and black icing. Jim gently teased Diana, “Di,  I am afraid you have as much paint on your face as you do on the masks.  Only it is not your signature purple color” Diana blushed and looked up through her dark thick lashes.  “Well, I didn’t want to have anybody mistake the demons for ghostly royalty.  Did you get everything? Brian leaned over the table and laid out his loot.  “Not quite.  We got the blood packets, the knives and the fake meat, but we weren’t able to find a copy of the movie anywhere.” Honey glared as Trixie finally lost her calm still demeanor and pouted, “No movie?  This haunted house won’t work very well if we don’t have ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ to have running in the background. Helen and Caroline looked up, gasped and shouted in unison. “No!” Five pair of eyes turned to gaze at both mothers. “Mummy?” cried Diana. “Moms. You’re pale as a ghost” worried Brian. Caroline took a calming breath, then said, “You are not playing that movie at my house and you are not making a haunted house to look like that move.  Make a haunted house about Frankenstein.  Do something about ‘The Exorcist’.  For all I care, you can make tubs of green pea soup.  But you are not doing, ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre!” Diana laughed nervously.  “But Mummy, the Monsignor surely wouldn’t approve of us doing The Exorcist.” Caroline whispered, “Don’t bet on it Diana.  He heard my terrified confession after I saw that movie.  He worked half the night with both Helen and I to get us both calmed down enough to go home and sleep in our own beds.  He even asked that night, “why did this movie bother you so much while The Exorcist didn’t.” I told him, that seeing Exorcist in a movie theater surrounded by friends and a hundred or so other people was nothing.  But going to a late night showing,  by myself, so I could pick up Helen after she got off work was something else.” That show started at 10.00 p.m.  Helen wouldn’t get off until 11.00 after the concession stand closed.  This was at the Drive In movie theater in White Plains.  There were only a few other cars there, and we were all spaced far away from each other.” I was being all brave about it just being a movie.  I cracked the window so I could place the speaker on the glass.  One of the opening scenes was of an old slaughter house.  These five kids picked up a hitchhiker and then when he started telling weird stories about how his family has always been in meat, they dumped him off on the side of the road.  Then they were in town and they stopped to eat and an old man at the diner told them that he had some good barbecue.  They finally got directions to their grandfathers house.  That scene was of an old two story house, like some of the old ones on Hawthorne street that have those old wrap-around porches.  It wasn’t too long after that, that they showed the freezer with the dead bodies and then the man standing with the chainsaw in his hands. That is when I put the speaker back on the pole, and went in to the concession stand to wait for Helen.  There was no way that I could stand to sit in that car by myself watching that movie.” The sudden revving of a chainsaw motor caused both women to scream. Helen choked out, “I didn’t even see the movie.  But Caroline was so scared that I got scared too.  No.  You will not be using ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ as a prop for your haunted house.

Oct 15, 2014: Dirty Dozen - message, pants, angle, vitamins, memory, truck, swimming, service, band, shirt, thistle, finance.

In the early dawn light Trixie huddled on the cracked leather of the bench seat in the old dark green 57 chevy pickup.  Her hoody sweatshirt wasn’t very much help in keeping her warm.  She was heartily wishing for the warmth of a late model truck with heated seats and more leg room. Every time she moved her legs to smooth the bunched up wrinkles of her pants, or  slid her feet under the angled output of the heater vent, she worried about kicking the console stick shift out of gear and rolling down the small hill of the parking lot. Dan was sitting off to the side,  in the cab of a Peterbilt tractor truck registered to Pennsylvania. He had gone into the service station store and laid the bait of being a trucker who didn’t want to ‘dead head’* back home. Now he was sitting there, actually hoping that nobody approached him to hire his rig.  He needed to stay right here, searching for their quarry that would be hauling booze to Pennsylvania.  Once they found the right target, he would abandon the rig, and join her in the chevy to trail the illegal booze across the border.  There, they would signal the state police in Pennsylvania who would take over the chase and make the necessary arrests at the end of the line. Trixie closely watched the trailing line of a dozen or more eighteen wheeler trucks that were patiently waiting their turn at the gas tanks.  She was glad she was able to recognize and sort the different details of all the trucks.  If it wasn’t for her memory, finding the right truck to follow could make this investigation a lot harder to complete. Considering that she was on the lookout for trucks possibly hauling illegal liquor, she couldn’t help seeing the analogy between the trucks waiting to be gassed up and a bunch of drunks bellying up to the bar for their share of drinks that were ‘on the house’. Their confidential informant had sent them a message that a new band of thieves  was working to finance a scheme to transport liquor across the border from New York, to Pennsylvania.  This was particularly bad news since Pennsylvania,  being a control state, prohibits the sale of wine and distilled spirits except in state controlled stores.  Therefore it was important for interstate relations that New York law enforcement close the pipeline from their state to their next door neighbor. Suddenly, the cb radio crackled, and Trixie heard a gravelly voice say, “Breaker Big Orange, you got your ears on?  This is Thistle.” Another younger voice responded, “That’s a 10-4 good buddy.  I don’t think we have any bears with ears or plain brown wrappers to worry about.  I just saw a cheese wagon go by, and my dashboard puppy is taking a well deserved nap.  I think we are good to go.  Big Orange, over and out” “I hope you took all your vitamins this morning. It looks like we have a have a long day ahead of us.  But we’ll be swimming in green-stamps at the end of the day.   Thistle out.”

Trixie grinned at the revelation of which truck she needed to follow.  She put the chevy in gear, and drove over to the Bob-tail and attracted Dan’s attention with a shrill Bobwhite whistle.  As she slid across the bench seat to let him climb in behind the steering wheel, she said, “Come on! We can pass the package to the Keystone Cops and then I am ready to go get some chocolate from Hershey Town.” *Thanks to Trish for explaining that ‘dead head’ means not driving an empty ruck back to home base. **Pennsylvania - All wine and spirits is sold in Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board stores, known as 'State Stores'. Malt beverages are sold in case lots by licensed beer retailers known as 'distributors', and in smaller quantities by on-premise establishments. The number of licenses to serve alcohol (including beer and wine) in restaurants is limited based on county populations.[8]  http://www.justice.gov/oig/reports/ATF/e0905.pdf Thanks to Mary C for the thought to use CB lingo.

Bears with ears: a police officer listening to others on the CBF

Cheese wagon:  A school bus

dashboard puppy:Radar Detector or other portable monitor (usually with an audible alarm).

Big Orange:  Skelton Truck Lines Truck.

Bob-tail:  a semi-tractor operating without a trailer.

Keystone Cops: Keystone State is a nickname for Pennsylvania.  Trixie is talking of handing the package to the Pennsylvania LEO’s.  Trixie means no disrespect but  Keystone Cops were also fictional incompetent policemen.

Hershey Town:  Hershey, Pennsylvania

green-stamps - money

Facial Expressions and Gestures

The outline of sunlight laying on the floor formed a silhouette of the windows of the west wall of the living room.  The picture of the late afternoon sunlight broken only by the shadows of the window braces stretched across the room to barely touch the toes of the shoes of the three teenage boys who were enveloped in the pillow back sofa  that seemed to wrap them in safety. Or was the couch actually a prison, securing them as surely as the iron bars of a prison cell. Opposit them, in straight backed wooden chairs, their prosecutors sat side by side.  A hairbreadth of space further on, sat their judge, draped in an infants receiving blanket rather than the usual black judicial robes. Bobby, shifted uncomfortably in his seat and with a face full of curiosity he leaned forward to speak.  “Trixie?  What’s going on?  Why did you and Diana and Honey call us over here?” Trixie ground out her words, her face almost black with anger. “Robert Belden!  If Moms knew the language you were using, I know that she would wash your mouth out with the strongest soap that she could find.” Diana interrupted and spoke to her brothers.  “Larry and Terry Lynch,  I saw that.  You sighed and grinned in relief like you think you aren’t the one in trouble, but you shouldn’t relax just yet.  Mummy will hear about this,  and in addition to the soap, I would bet that you will both be grounded for a month.” Trixie stood up and advanced to loom over the boys.  “I am sure that you probably heard this language at school from other guys.  But I know that both Daddy and Mr. Lynch will be so disappointed in the three of you.  I don’t even want to guess what Jim, Brian, Mart, or Dan will say.  I don’t think they would even use these words talking among themselves, and I am certain that none of them would ever use these words in front of the ‘little pictures with big ears’ that are Joseph and Danielle.” Each of the boys struggled to extricate themselves from the incarceration of the sofa.  When they were free, they each stood shoulder to shoulder facing their accuser. Terry exclaimed, “Just what the heck are you talking about Trixie?  We have never used any bad language in front of the kids.” Diana huffed at her brothers.  “Well, it isn’t exactly bad language.  But is sure isn’t respectful to talk about a woman’s chest as bosoms and ta ta’s. Especially since this month is Breast Cancer Awareness month.  Honey was nursing Brianna today, when Nellie Bean started talking about ta ta’s and Joey talked about buzzooms.” The three boys each started talking at the same time.  Finally, Bobby let loose with the shrill whistle of a Bobwhite quail.  “Look.  You listen to us. We have never used that sort of language.  Don’t you think that our parents taught us better than that?” A screen door slammed nearby accompanied by the excited chatter of two young children.  The six combatants turned towards the living room door and watched as Joey carrying a Buzz Lightyear toy and Nellie Bean holding a small bean sprout each dragged their fathers into the room.    As soon as the children saw the boys, they ran to their Uncle Bobby and grabbed him to get his attention. “Buzzoom” said Joey and Nellie Bean shrieked, “Ta Ta!” Trixie and Dinah yelled in unison, “See?  We knew that it had to be one of you!  Bobby, I am so ashamed … Robert Belden, why are you laughing?This isn’t at all funny!” With tears running down his cheeks, Bobby chortled, “Let me translate dear sister.  Buzzoom is ‘Buzz Lightyear goes zoom’.  See the way Joey is waving Buzz around?” Trixie humphed and said, “Maybe so.  But why is Nellie Bean saying ta ta?” Bobbie grinned and rolled his eyes as he said, “Don’t you see that her bean plant sprouted?  She isn’t saying ta ta.  She is saying, ‘Tah Dah!”