by Alan Katz
Nathan and David told her plenty. And somehow, strangely, the boys got the feeling that Mary already knew everything they told her.
This is pretty creepy, David thought.
It sure is, Nathan thought, even though David hadn’t said This is pretty creepy out loud—which was, in fact, even creepier.
Mary seemed nice enough, and she told the boys that she used to be a superstar college basketball player, which they both thought was totally cool.
Then Mary asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”
David blurted out, “What’s your full name?
“Mary Huron Delp,” she said.
“Another MHD,” David whispered to his brother.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Nathan whispered back.
“What were you saying?” Mary asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Nathan told her. “It’s just funny, because you have the exact same initials as our last two nannies, Myron Hyron Dyron and Martin Healey Discount.”
“Quite a coincidence.” Mr. Wohlfardt laughed.
“Indeed.” Mrs. Wohlfardt laughed.
“I’ll say!” David said.
“Me too!” Nathan added.
“It’s not really a coincidence at all,” Mary told them. “Because, you see, Myron and Martin are my twin brothers.”
Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt both fell off the couch. And David and Nathan fell off the floor—which, as you might imagine, wasn’t easy.
That was about as shocked as the four Wohlfardts had ever been. They were all speechless as they thought about the fact that Mary and Martin and Myron were sister and brother and brother.
No one said anything at all for quite a long time. In fact, it was Mary who finally broke the silence. Sitting opposite the four Wohlfardts, Mary cheerily said . . .
“Yes, Myron and Martin are my brothers. And say, here they come now!”
Yes, Myron Hyron Dyron was back. And Martin Healey Discount was back. In they walked, arm in arm, waving and smiling and creating quite a stir.
“Hello-de-lo-ho-de-lo-lo!” they sang to get her, having rehearsed that phrase since age three, but never having had a chance to use it in public before.
“Martin!” Nathan screamed.
“Nathan!” Martin screamed.
“Myron!” David screamed.
“Droogy!” Myron screamed.
“Brother!” Mary screamed.
“Sister!” Myron and Martin screamed.
“You’re back?” Mr. Wohlfardt exclaimed.
“But we thought . . . ,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said.
“You thought that I was leaving because I wanted Myron to have the job,” Martin said. “And I truly did.”
“And you thought I was leaving because I wanted Martin to have the job,” Myron said. “And I truly did.”
“But we ran into each other at the bus station, where I was about to board a bus heading north-southwest, and I saw that Myron was planning to travel south-northeast,” Martin said. “And we realized we’d both quit as your nanny for the exact same reason—and that in doing so, we left you without anyone to watch the boys.”
“Poor Nub and Dub,” Myron whined. “We didn’t mean to do that at all. Really, we didn’t. Really. Really. You have to believe us. Really.”
“Stop it, Myron,” Martin said. “But he’s telling the truth. And that, my friends, is why we’ve come back to the home of the loving Wohlfardtos!”
“Please don’t ever call us that again,” Mr. Wohlfardt said, scowling.
“I won’t,” Martin told him apologetically.
“Don’t worry about the boys,” Mary told her brothers. “Because I can assure you they will be well taken care of from now on.”
“Indeed they will,” said Myron. “Because we have a well-thought-out plan. Listen to this . . .”
“I want to tell them,” Martin said.
“No, I do,” Myron insisted.
“Me,” Martin said.
“Me,” Myron said.
“It was half my idea,” Martin said.
“Then tell them your half,” Myron replied. “And I’ll tell them my half. But remember, your half without my half isn’t half as good.”
“Guys, the family doesn’t need your plan. And they don’t need you —they’ve hired a new nanny,” Mary told them.
“Oh, hi, Mary,” Myron said, acting as if he hadn’t said hello to her moments before. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the Wohlfardts’ new nanny,” she told them. “I’m moving in this afternoon.”
Then it was Martin’s and Myron’s turn to fall on the floor.
What happened after that? You might be sorry you asked.
Mary, in her first official act as the family’s new nanny, helped Mrs. Wohlfardt up off the floor. Then she helped Mr. Wohlfardt off the floor. And lastly, she helped Nathan and David up off the floor.
Martin and Myron, however, stayed down on the carpet. Each man began kicking and screaming, throwing a tantrum much as a two-year-old would.
“There, there,” comforted Mrs. Wohlfardt.
“Where, where?” asked Martin.
“There, there,” comforted Mr. Wohlfardt.
“Where, where?” asked Myron.
Nathan and David got down on the floor with the men, trying to get them to calm down and stop crying.
It worked.
A few minutes later, the five adults and two boys all met for hot cocoa in the kitchen.
“They’re having hot cocoa,” David whispered to his brother.
“I can see and hear that this time,” Nathan told him.
Knowing that his whipped-cream presentation hadn’t solved the two-nanny problem weeks before, Mr. Wohlfardt tried an entirely different approach with the three nannies:
Marshmallows.
Using marshmallows in their cups of hot cocoa, Mr. Wohlfardt charted out the whole situation: two boys, three nannies.
Mrs. Wohlfardt, who didn’t have much faith in her husband’s food-based demonstrations, left the room. Mr. Wohlfardt thought perhaps he heard her speaking on the phone in the next room, though he knew that the way things were going, she might just be sitting alone talking to herself.
“And so, you understand,” Mr. Wohlfardt said, as the three nannies nodded but clearly didn’t understand, “the marshmallows represent all of you, and this cup of cocoa represents the job we have to offer. If marshmallow number 1 is Martin, and I put it in the cup—”
“I’ll melt! If that marshmallow is me, I’ll melt in the hot cocoa!” Martin said.
“Remember, Martin . . . the marshmallow is not actually you,” Mr. Wohlfardt told him. “It’s a marshmallow representing you.”
“Whew, that’s a relief,” Martin said.
Mr. Wohlfardt’s attempt to explain and fix the triple-nanny situation went on for a while with much delicious marshmallow eating, but without much success. Fortunately, success was about to enter from the next room, because Mrs. Wohlfardt came back with especially good news for all.
“Hmm, perhaps if we tried it with mini -marshmallows,” Mr. Wohlfardt was saying as his wife gleefully interrupted him.
“I did it, I did it, I did it,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said.
“Congratulations! I knew you could do it!” Mr. Wohlfardt said, thrilled to be interrupted and tossing the bags of marshmallows and mini-marshmallows aside. “What did you do?”
“I solved the whole problem! For you! For me! For Nathan! For David! For Martin! For Myron! For Mary!” Mrs. Wohlfardt boasted.
“Do tell,” Mr. Wohlfardt begged. “Do tell.”
“Well, I was in the den and I was thinking, ‘What do people want more than anything?’ ” Mrs. Wohlfardt said.
“Socks you never have to wash?” Myron guessed.
“A lifetime supply of ketchup-covered pretzels?” Martin guessed.
“Good guesses, but you’re both wrong, Myron and Martin,” Mrs. Wohlfardt told them.
She went on to explain that she was
thinking that what everyone wants more than anything is a reliable, responsible care-giver for themselves and their loved ones. Martin said that would have been his next guess.
“So,” Mrs. Wohlfardt told the group, “I called some neighbors and asked if they’d want to know about some highly recommended, kindhearted professionals.”
“Do you mean us?” Myron wanted to know.
“Indeed I do,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “And indeed they did.”
“Really?” Mr. Wohlfardt asked, wide-eyed.
“Really,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “The Kendall family needs help watching their son, Beckett.”
“The Kendall family? Ooh, I love their ittybitty kitty!” Martin said.
“Yes, I remember,” said Mrs. Wohlfardt. “And the Clarks have baby triplets and could definitely use daily assistance.”
“The Clarks? Such a clean lawn!” Myron said, though only Nathan and David knew what he meant.
“Plus, that nice elderly lady Mildred Williams who recently moved to town needs an aide to help her when she goes shopping for piano music,” Mrs. Wohlfardt added.
“What does all that have to do with us?” Mary wanted to know.
“I’m glad you asked,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “After I got off the phone, I knew I needed a plan, so I started to dabble. . . .”
Mr. Wohlfardt nodded cheerily. He liked hearing that, especially the word “dabble.”
Mrs. Wohlfardt then outlined a schedule in which the three nannies could share the responsibilities at the Wohlfardt house, the Kendall house, the Clark house, and Mrs. Williams’s cottage. They could rotate responsibilities, so none of them would get bored, and each family would get the help they needed while sharing the nannies’ S-A-L-A-R-I-E-S.
“Brilliant! It’s the best of all possible worlds!” Mr. Wohlfardt said.
“I like it!” said Martin.
“I like it!” said Myron.
“I like it!” said Mary.
“And adding to the terrificness,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said, not really knowing if that was a word, “you’ll see each other—and our boys—daily!”
“Bravo!” Mr. Wohlfardt cheered.
Then suddenly he frowned.
“But, dear,” Mr. Wohlfardt said, “if they’re all working in different homes, how will they see each other daily?”
“When they all come home each night to sleep,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “Right here in our house.”
That’s when Mr. Wohlfardt once again fell to the floor. Good thing his head landed on the bags of marshmallows. And, of course, mini-marshmallows.
Everyone loves a neat, tidy, happy ending, and it seems that the Wohlfardt family and their three (!) nannies had one. Until . . .
. . . the doorbell rang.
Mrs. Wohlfardt, thinking it was one of the Kendalls, or a Clark, or Mildred Williams, gleefully opened the door. What she saw and heard next was perhaps the very last thing in the world she was expecting.
It was a young woman who was the spitting image of Mary Huron Delp (without the spit).
She said, “Hello, my name is Maureen Heller Duggan. I’m here for the nanny job. . . .”
“SISTER!” Martin yelled.
“SISTER!” Myron yelled.
“SISTER!” Mary yelled.
“OH, BROTHER!” all four Wohlfardts yelled.
As a print and television writer, Alan Katz has majored in silliness for more than thirty years. He’s written for a whole bunch of Emmy-nominated TV shows, animated series, award shows, and a slew of Nickelodeon projects. He is also the author of many illustrated books of poems for kids, such as Take Me Out of the Bathtub and Other Silly Dilly Songs. He lives in Connecticut with his family, including his twin sons.
www.alankatzbooks.com
Kris Easler has a master’s degree in illustration from Savannah College of Art and Design and lives in Chicago, Illinois.
www.kriseasler.com
Also by Alan Katz
The Day the Mustache Took Over
Text copyright © 2016 by Alan Katz
Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Kris Easler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the United States of America in July 2016
by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
www.bloomsbury.com
This electronic edition published in 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
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You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Katz, Alan, author.
Title: The day the mustache came back / by Alan Katz.
Description: New York : Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2016.
Summary: When Martin “Murray Poopins” Healey left the Wohlfardt household, all the responsible habits, good manners, and study skills that twins David and Nathan had developed under his less-than-watchful eye went out the window, until Myron, who claims to be Martin’s twin, arrives.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015025166
ISBN: 978-1-61963-560-9 (hardcover)
ISBN: 978-1-61963-561-6 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Nannies—Fiction. | Behavior—Fiction. | Twins—Fiction. |
Brothers—Fiction. | Humorous stories. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION/Humorous Stories. |
JUVENILE FICTION/Family/Siblings. | JUVENILE FICTION/Boys & Men.
Classification: LCC PZ7.K15669 Das 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015025166
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