“Don’t do that,” Grandma said.
“If you keep rocking backwards and forwards like that you’ll fall off the table.”
Sally was sitting on the huge wooden kitchen table, knees up to her chin, rocking gently. It was a hot day. Too hot almost to be outside.
Grandma had a penchant for making everyone pink satin knickers, with wide bottomed legs. Sally hated them, but you couldn’t argue with Grandma.
Suddenly Sally felt what was like a thousand needles going into her butt. Screaming uncontrollably and almost falling off the table, she had no udea at all what had happened to her.
“I told you not to sit like that on the table,” Grandma snapped.
“Let me look.”
Sally felt the indignity of it all as Grandma came to pull her knickers down and inspect the area.
“It’s a wasp,” Grandma said. “A wasp went up your knicker leg. Keep still. I’ve got to make shre that the STING is out.”
Sally sat still as still. Soon, the operation was over.
“I’m never wearing those knickers again,” Sally dared to say to Grandma.
“It wasn’t the fault of the knickers,” Grandma said.
“It was your fault for sitting with your knees up like that.”
Secretly Sally resolved NEVER to wear those knickers again.