“Harry can’t play with Sasha and Willy any more,” Steve said this morning.
“Why?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and preparing to stagger into the kitchen for coffee.
“They’re a bad influence.”
Indeed. Mr Potsticker pulled the flour off the bottom shelf and proceeded to wreak havoc.
And as if that weren’t enough, he also started licking it off the floor.
Remember how you were a kid and made paste out of glue? Harry discovered that if you lick up enough flour, you’ll eventually glue your mouth shut.
