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Mud
Zama has spent all morning in a mucky puddle, making a new friend.
“Let’s have some fun, Mud. What do you want to do?”
“Something naughty,” grins Mud.
SQUELCH!
WHEEEE!
“Oh no, Mud! You made Mama’s clean sheets dirty!”
“Zama! What have you done with my washing?”
“It’s not me, Mama. It’s Mud!” cries Zama.
“Mud! What did you do to Mama’s clean floor?”
But Mud ignores Zama and scampers into the kitchen.
“Zama! What is this mess?”
“It’s not me, Mama.
It’s Mud!”
Oh dear! Is there anything Mud didn’t touch?
“It’s Mud, Mama! Pleads Zama. “I don’t know how to stop it!”
“Enough nonsense, Zama! Get in the bath. Right now!”
Zama sinks into the bubbles. It feels so good to be clean again!
But where is Mud?
Suddenly…
KER-SPLASH!
“Zama!
The bath is full of mud!”
“I know, Mama,” says Zama crossly. “And it can stay there!”
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