Cyclone in the House

This past week I went to stay with my grandma and grandpa. I always go there for a week in the summer. They live on a farm. There isn’t much time for television at their farm, but I don’t care because we have so much to do. I get to help Grandpa milk the cows, and help Grandma collect eggs from the chickens. She shows me how to steal the eggs carefully when the hens aren’t looking. Grandpa teaches me not to mistake melons for onions in the garden and how to dig for carrots and radishes.

When I got home from the farm, I was ready to plop down on my bed and take a long rest. I was ready to watch movies, chat with friends, and play video games with my sister.

Grandpa brought me home and dropped me off outside the door. He had waved goodbye and drove off without coming in. He was running late for his dentist appointment. When I walked in the house, it looked like a cyclone had hit it. Towels were hanging on the backs of chairs, juice was all over the kitchen table, and mud was caked on the floor. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Where was my mom? What had happened to our house?

I walked down the hall in a daze. Mom had made sure when I left for Grandma’s and Grandpa’s that I left my room neat as a pin. Opening the door to my room, I gasped in horror. Dirty socks were on the floor. The books were all out of the bookshelf. Broken toys littered the room. What was going on?

I shut my eyes tight. I tried to collect my thoughts. When I opened them, I scanned the room again, then glanced up and down the hallway. I knew what was wrong.

Sprinting for the door with my duffel bag in my hand, I ran out the front door. All the houses on our street look the same. I was in the neighbor’s house!