The Tale of 3 Mothers
It was hard for Mrs. Crumple to balance herself down the muddy road. The rain drenching them cold. The sky grumpy and threatening. Flashing them lights and scaring them with exploding thunder. Mrs. Crumple brushed away the water dripping from her lashes. "A very nice Sunday, this is," she said at the top of her lungs. Mr. Crumple held on to her by the hand. Even with him, the ground remained tricky to tread on. If she put too much of her weight on her feet, she'd get stuck. If she doesn't, she'd slip. "Don't drop my apples and peaches. Give me that basket. They're my apples, and I don't want any mud on them." "They won't fall. It's just hard for me to hold on to the basket and keep you steady," he reasoned. "Give me the basket. If they fall at least I won't have to blame you," she said. "No! Don't bring your muddy shoes up the porch nor the house. I don't want any dirt in the house! O