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Full-Time Dads;
The Magazine for Caregiver Fathers
Issue 24
Robbie loved pop-corn.
On his fourth birthday his grandpa gave him a pop-corn popper.
Robbie waited impatiently until his daddy smile and said, "All right, we can pop the corn now."
Daddy put the popper on the kitchen counter. Robbie pulled the stool up so he could watch. He didn't want to miss a thing.
Daddy read the instructions out loud, "You put a little pop-corn to the line in the popper, put the lid on, plug it in, turn the dial to 'on' and the light will come on. The popper will go off by itself when all the corn is popped. That's easy."
Robbie listened attentively.
In a few minutes he could hear it popping. Pop--pop pop-pop pop pop. He like the way it sounded. "It smells good," he said.
When the light went off and the corn stopped popping, Daddy put it in a paper bag. Robbie sat on the floor and ate it all.
During the night Robbie woke up thinking about pop-corn. He thought he would get up and see if the popper was still there. Robbie climbed on the kitchen stool and turned the light on. There on the counter was his shiny new popper. He took off the lid and he could smell pop-corn.
It smelled so wonderful he thought he would make some. Daddy had said it was easy. He remembered what he had done. First he poured the rest of the pop-corn, from the great big bag his grandpa had given him, into the popper. He wanted a little more than his Daddy had made for him. He put the lid on, plugged it in, and turned the knob until the light went on. And he waited.
After what seemed like a long time, Robbie heard a pop--pop pop-pop pop pop. Soon it was popping loudly. It made him think of the Fourth of July.
All of a sudden his eyes grew big and he became a little frightened. The lid started raising up higher and higher, and the pop-corn was leaping out from under the lid all over the counter. With a BANG the lid slid off, and the pop-corn was popping everywhere.
As Robbie watched in amazement, the pop-corn hit the ceiling light. It was covering the stove, refrigerator, table. It was all over the floor. Robbie thought the popper light would go off soon, the way it did for Daddy. Instead the popper kept right on popping.
Poor Robbie was desperately stuffing pop-corn in his mouth with both hands, trying to get rid of it, tears rolling down his cheeks. It was coming down on his head like hail. The kitchen floor was covered and it was getting deeper. He stayed on the stool because he was afraid if he got off he would drown in pop-corn. And still it kept popping.
Suddenly Robbie heard a gasp from the doorway. Through his wet eyes he saw hid Daddy standing there. He knew he was in big trouble and would be scolded, but he was very glad to see him.
Taking high, crunching steps, as if he were trudging through deep snow, Daddy hurried over to the popper and pulled the plug. The popper stopped popping.
Daddy put his arms around Robbie and hugged him. Robbie held him tight, too.
"I only wanted to make a little," Robbie mumbled through tears and his mouthful of pop-corn.
They were standing there, barefoot in their pajamas, in a room covered with pop-corn. When Daddy realized Robbie was alright he started laughing at the mess. Robbie looked at him in surprise, and reluctantly started laughing, too. Soon they were laughing so hard they had to sit down in the snow-bank of pop-corn.
"I feel like we should be making a snow-man," Daddy said, hugging Robbie. It took Robbie and his Daddy a long time to clean up the pop-corn, and it was a long time before Robbie would eat pop-corn again.
Copyright 1996 Janet McCann
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