Painted in a Corner

“Janie. Come in here. Right away.”

Recrimination echoed in the ensuing silence. Janie tucked her hair behind her ears, straightened her shirt, took a deep breath, walked slowly down the hall and into the sunlit corner room where a matronly lady stood reviewing the wreckage of Janie’s work.

“You do know that you’ve painted yourself into a corner this time. You’re up the creek without a paddle, on the roof without a ladder, in the mine without a parakeet. In short, you, my friend, are in trouble.”

Tears came to Janie’s eyes.

“I’m, I’m s-s-s-sorry.”

“Well, we’re kind of past the point of sorry now.”

Stern icy blue eyes under shaggy grey eyebrows looked down at Janie who was now more aware of her slight stature than she’d ever been.

“What do you want me to do,” she asked.

Janie held her hands in front of her, pleading. She also held her breath.

“Janie, if this had been the first time we could overlook it. But you’ve done this before. Several times.”

“But I’ll do better. I promise!”

The craggy face in which the eyes resided moved closer.

“OK. I believe you. So here’s what what’s going to happen. You’re going to clean up the mess you made, and you’ll do it without complaint.”

“I understand,” Janie said. She brushed her hands together, ready to get down to business.

“And Janie…”

“Yes?”

“Next time you want to make cookies, check with me first. We can have a grandma and Janie baking lesson.

Janie smiled and nodded as she swept flour, chocolate chips and eggshells, her culinary palette, from the floor.