Note:
The two children are Junior and Baby.
Junior (named Alfie) looks and sounds just like his dad. Baby, is small and roly-poly like his mum. His real name is Greg but everyone is used to calling him Baby despite the fact he is eight and goes to school!
Our story begins on a pretty normal day; the family were enjoying a relaxing few moments after lunch when the doorbell rang.
‘Whatever is that?’ Granddad asked scratching his beard and sending crumbs flying about the room.
Baby Munchin, grinned. ‘Doorbell’ he told them. Then he went back to licking his bowl clean.
Mother Munchin smiled. ‘Well fancy that! We have a genius in the family. Baby, however did you know that?’
Baby was thinking, I can’t tell the truth, I promised Fred I wouldn’t tell.
He and his best friend, Fred play a game after school most days. Fred does most of the work because he is the fastest boy in the whole school. He races up to a door, rings the doorbell and runs to where Baby is hiding. Together they watch the people of the house come out and look for the caller. People always walk outside. Next they look up and down the street, under bushes, in cars, behind pillar-boxes for the person who rang their doorbell.
Fred and Baby are so successful at this they have made the headlines in the local paper. The big print on the front page this morning asked, ‘Are the invisible door bell ringers really aliens?’
Baby remembers what Fred said to him, ‘be careful do not tell anyone it was us or we will get punished.’
Baby had no idea what punished meant. He asked Fred who waved a long finger at Baby saying. ‘Well my dad said he used to get beaten with a stick, my mum used to get smacks of a wooden spoon and my aunt used to get grounded.’
Baby thought this last bit was funny but after some reflection he decided that spending your day with your head stuck in the ground would not be so funny.
So he simply said, ‘Don’t know, must have learnt it at school.’
‘Clever boy,’ his mum said patting the top of his head fondly.
Chapter 3
The doorbell rang once again. ‘Well come on in’ Father Munchin yelled.
A deep voice shouted back, ‘I would if I could find a door handle.’
‘Just pull or push.’ the whole Munchin family shouted. Their shout whipped up enough wind to knock the birds out of the tree and to blow the door open. They could see blue sky and green grass but not a visitor or any birds.
Junior Munchin stood up and walking over looked outside. ‘There is no one there!’ He said in a puzzled voice and turned to go inside.
They heard a painful whisper, ‘I’m crushed to a pulp behind the door, help, please.’
There was a thunderous noise of trampling scampering feet as the rest of the Munchin Family arrived to rescue him.
Granddad was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of seeing a squished body.
‘Oh my, Oh my.’ Father Munchin said over and over again as he twisted a hanky in his hands. He wasn’t good at looking at blood and gore.
Baby wanted to see what a squashed person looked like and he peeped behind the door. He was disappointed there was no blood or mess. Sighing loudly he said, ‘He’s ok. He looks a funny color and is a bit squished. But he will live!’
‘Come on in and have some tea, ‘Mother Munchin said staring at the visitor.
He was a very peculiar looking fellow. His face was long and thin with a short bulbous nose set right in the middle. His eyes were huge, one was brown and the other blue. His mouth was thin and small. His hair was so tightly curled it looked like a helmet sitting on his head.
Baby Munchin stood on his head and asked, ‘Were you punished, is that what happened?’
Their visitor’s whole body was shaking from the incredible experience of being flattened and meeting the entire family.
‘Baby, get the nice man some hot tea and a sandwich.’ Mother Munchin said as she patted the man’s hand and led him to a chair.
Baby ran to do as she asked and wished Fred were here, because Baby didn’t know how to make a sandwich. All he knew about sandwiches is that he loved them.
Mudpile Wood 
When i got caught taking a shortcut to avoid all the crowds changing classes at school, a teacher gave me a toothbrush and told me to clean the pebbles i had stepped on. I liked the teacher, still remember his name but wonder what power does to people.
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Sounds like a dictator to me, or was this his or hers worst form of punishment?
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Think he thought he was helping us think about consequences – he was a Major and they probably did much worse things in the army to discipline people, overall he was quite sweet – came after an incident where we were changing rooms for lessons and a small boy whose life was challenging – weaved beween the crowds – for some reason with something made from glass in his mouth – and fell and hurt himself quite badly in the face.
I think worse disciplines are where people in authority humliate you infront of your friends to make a point.
Little while ago – ran into someone from this school and even after all this time – she said it was one of teh worst experiences of her life and she changed schools. It was a big and new Co-Ed, Church School infact.
I jusr remember it as a wilderness, to be honest – a time of nothing – in my life.
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