Kindness

Left at the home of my grandmother's cousin  Louise, who had agreed to babysit us one afternoon, my little brother Johnny and I were surprised to learn we should call this lady by her first name, and dismayed to discover that we were staying at her house for dinner too!

Johnny, who was no more than five at the time, and probably younger, demanded of her, "What are we having for dinner?"

"Tuna noodle casserole," she answered.

"What's that?" Johnny asked. I had never heard of it either.

"I mix tuna fish and noodles and soup and peas, and I bake it," she explained.

"Wait a minute," Johnny said. "You mean you eat tuna fish hot?"

"Yes," she told him. "I cook it in the oven."

I was wondering which was more disgusting: having to eat peas, or eating tuna fish hot, but I was old enough to know that we were guests and we needed to be polite. Not only would I have to choke down every bit of hot tuna fish and peas that Louise would put on my plate; I would also have to smile and pretend I loved it. I nudged Johnny and made a threatening face.

Ignoring me as usual, he protested, "Yuck! I can't eat tuna fish hot!" As if that weren't bad enough, he added, "My sister doesn't like it either!"

He was always getting me into trouble, and now we were really in for it! Louise would be angry with us for being rude guests, and I didn't even want to think about what my mother would say when she found out.

But Louise didn't get mad at all. "Do you like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I could make that for you instead."

Johnny and I gratefully nodded.

            She smiled at us. "What a dull world indeed it would be if everyone liked the same things!"