Little Jonny's Rattle Little Jonny had dropped his rattle down the toilet – Mother would not be pleased. As the splash rang out he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the crime had not been witnessed by any who would rat him out. Luckily his Brother was napping on the sofa; a love for afternoon naps was not something that the twins shared. Jonny flung his arm over the basin rim and let out a little squeal of effort, his arm dangled for a moment as his fingers flexed towards the water. Just out of reach. He sighed and retracted his arm with a puzzled bewilderment on his face, partially obscured by the dummy crudely placed in his mouth by his overtired Mother. A quick sweep of the room revealed no means of salvation for the drowning rattle. He didn’t mind so much that the rattle was dead - he had many other toys to keep himself occupied - but he feared that the rattle corpse may be the last straw for his Mother. Just last week when he scribbled crayon on the wall she threatened to give all his toys to Tommy. Jonny would rather die than give up his toys to that malformed half of the egg. Tommy and Jonny had never gotten along, even in the womb they’d argue over who got the comfier side. Tommy being the bigger of the two usually won, but Jonny’s brains would certainly be more beneficial in the years to come. Jonny decided that his attempts to salvage the rattle were useless, it was stuck there and he would just have to accept it. He gurgled and began a steady crawl into the living room where his slumbering brother lay. Jonny continued his trudge until he reached the sofa, where he climbed up onto his feet and gave his Brother’s face a sharp poke with his pudgy little index. Not even a grumble. At this point, genius struck little Jonny – his eyes widened as lightning flashed through his eyes. A plan had crash landed into his barely formed brain, a plan that would successfully see him safe from the toy taking tyranny of his Mother. He quickly crawled back into the bathroom and grabbed the end of the toilet paper dangling freely to the side of the loo; he slowly dragged it through the doorway, into the living room and straight into the hands of his Brother, still snoozing on the sofa. He sat for a moment on his slightly moist nappy revelling in the sheer genius of his plan. How could his Mother ever believe that the culprit was anyone else but the one covered into toilet roll? It would be an amateur deduction that his Mother surely would not fall victim to. Pride dripped from his face with every globule of saliva. A few seconds passed and doubt began to sift through his head, how could he be certain that his Mother wouldn’t know the truth? Would the bread crumbs be enough to convince his Mother? Maybe he should add a cherry to the cake, he had few minutes he guessed, before his Mother came storming down the stairs begging for blood. He looked at the room again praying for another glimmer of inspiration. But nothing - Not this time, his creative flame had fizzled out, the wick from the candle of inspiration was stuck in dry wax, the enter key on the keyboard had fallen off. Jonny and his toys were surely doomed. After what felt like hours of panic Jonny decided to act, he could not be blamed or this! His playtimes would severely suffer without the joy and relaxation that those toys brought to him. But most of all, he could not let his brother win. He crawled once more over to his Brother - who was still unconscious and dreaming of cauliflowers eating forks to get revenge- he popper his dummy from his mouth and held it in one hand just above his brother’s face. With the other hand he hovered for a second then harshly grabbed Tommy’s nose covering both nostrils and stopping all air from reaching those small but powerful lungs. A few moments passed as Jonny imagined a world without his Brother’s incessant breathing at night-time, but the time for thinking soon ended. Tommy’s mouth gasped open and Jonny plunged his dummy straight into his ever infuriating brother’s mouth. Brilliant he thought! Not only would Mother think that his rattle had been vandalised, but she would think his dummy had been stolen too. A little smile, which could easily be mistaken for wind, greased across his face. Whilst Jonny was prematurely enjoying his success Tommy had stirred and was groggily opening his eyes, he straight away noticed the glib expression of his brother before him and raised his hand. It then plummeted downwards and propelled the unexpecting little boy to the floor. Little Jonny had dropped his rattle down the toilet – or at least that’s what Jonny had thought, but as he lay there sprawled across the floor recoiling from an unwelcome. He noticed his Rattle, gently resting underneath the sofa staring back at him, assuring him that #life would be okay. Turns out it was his Brother’s rattle in the toilet - serves the brute right for hogging the womb!