Three

Yesterday’s corner time: 0 minutes.

As it was my birthday weekend, there was a temporary armistice on corner time.

My Dad came into my bedroom on Saturday morning and told me that I was now three.

I misheard him and thought he had said free. I whooped for joy, packed my little suitcase and slapped Becca one final time before walking out through the front door.

I was half-way down the drive before Dad caught back up with me and explained that as I was only three, it would be a very, very long time before I was ever free.

I soon forgot about this depressing thought and waded into my pile of gifts.

My main present was a bright red scooter which I’d been wanting for ages. However, my favourite was the cardboard tube from inside the wrapping paper. This should be good for whacking my tennis ball and of course, Becca.

My parents also bought me a clock, which looks like an owl and has ears that pop up telling me when it’s ok to go into their bedroom in the mornings. Well, that’s what they hope but I see this as an excellent opportunity to really irritate them by refusing to grasp the concept.

I’ve already discovered how to move the time forward, so they’ll be getting quite a few rude awakenings.

Matthew.