SUNDAY. Dear Diary, I think I shall call you Mary Anne so you will seem a little more human. Nothing much to say. Sunday peace and quiet--just as I like to have them.
MONDAY. A glorious day. And O, how I hated to defile it with work. But of course that was the case. At supper time I always get the report of all the wrong-doing of my children.
"Say, Ma," Jimmie said, "Leora was late."
"I was not."
"You were and you know it. Twenty minutes."
"I was not. I got in just after the last bell rang. So there."
"Well, you were late. Why, we were singing."
"Yes and it was the first song, too, because it was America."
"Yes," said Louise, "that's right. Because I looked around when Leora came in and we had only just got to the sweet land of Liberty."
What, O, what, ever possessed me to try a new recipe when I was expecting company--when I had other true and tried old ones? Never again. That recipe looked so good I could just taste it. And I tried so hard and it looked so nice until it was cut and then--Well, I've had failures with cakes before. But today--That was my masterpiece of them all. From now on my motto shall be old recipes for my friends and new ones for my own beloved family.
THURSDAY. O Mary Ann, I'm in Dutch again. Why can't I calm down and be a dignified old married woman as a mother of ten children should be? I knew Louise was angry when I saw her come stamping down the road from school today. The first I heard from her was:
"Say, Ma, you made a fool out of me."
"Today Teacher asked if any one could give a Mother Goose jingle 'n' I raised my hand 'n' she called on me. So I got up and gave Old Mother Hubbard 'n' she laughed. So did all the rest of them. 'N' Mr. Riley...If you could have heard him...He just roared 'n' roared."
And then I remembered--that piece of foolishness I had said to her. But surely I hadn't meant any harm to my own children. One day when we were having a ton of fun I spoke that piece for them--with variations, of course. But I'll never be able to explain it to Louise. I said it this way:
"Old Mother Hubbard,
She went to the closet
To get her poor girl a dress,
But when she got there
The closet was bare
So the poor girl had to wear her kimono."
But Mary Anne, I ask you--just stop and consider--I am chairman of the entertainment committee for the Parent-Teacher Association to be held next week and I have already asked Mr. Riley to speak to us. I said to him, "Give us something funny. Don't be too serious." That man is a clown. He can keep a roomful laughing with the least effort of any one I ever saw. Next Wednesday night if he dares to mention Mother Goose Rhymes--as I'm afraid he will--I know I shall just evaporate. I'll order him shot at sunrise or boiled in oil at dusk.
Therefore I do solemnly affirm that from now on henceforth and forever more I shall be a calm, dignified, solemn, stern, old woman as a mother of ten should be and never again shall be reckless in words and actions. Signed, sealed and sworn to before me, to take instant effect from now on to the day of my death.