“Finders keepers, losers weepers,” Mike said, making full use of his four inch height advantage by holding my new baseball mitt just out of my reach.
“I didn’t lose it,” I grunted as I attempted to swat it down. It wasn’t working.
“Well I say you did, so you did,” Mike retorted, standing on his toes when I started jumping.
“Enough Mike. Give it back.”
“Or what?”I came real close to breaking a cardinal rule, I almost threatened to tell mom. Mike saw enough in my eyes to suspect as much. He glared defiantly down at me.
“Fine, keep the stupid mitt; I don’t care,” I said and turned and stomped towards the house.
Mom was in the kitchen, making our sandwiches for lunch.
She called after me as I headed up the stairs, “You didn’t take that new mitt outside did you?”
I swallowed hard. “No-why?”
“We have to take it back to the store. Your dad told me we bought you a girl’s one by accident. Didn’t you notice the princess crown on the inside?”
“That’s okay,” I called back, careful to keep the laugh in. “I’ll just use Mike’s old one.”