Ingrid Marie is Five
Kista Tucker“He’s here, he’s here! One-jump, two-jumps, kick my rump. Go-go-go, let Grandma Jo know!” I see my birthday presents: one, two, three, four, five—I’m five, lined up on the dining room table when I run back to the kitchen.
“Grandma Jo, Grandma Jo, Uncle Robby’s here. He’s parking.” I smell peanut butter cookies in the oven.
“Ingy, calm down,” she says. “Go check the forks and spoons, and make sure the Hoover is put away in the coat closet. Tell Robby to come back here when he gets inside.”
My cake is a peanut butter cookie cake. I run, check forks, spoons—straighten out two crooked ones, and open the closet door. There’s the stinky old vacuum.
I get to the front door exactly when Uncle Robby arrives. Jump and clap! He opens the door and first thing afte
