Uh-Oh, All Better

Meethi reached for her cup, and the cup tipped, and the milk went everywhere.

“Uh-oh!” said Meethi.

Now, in some houses, a spill is a big loud thing. But in Meethi’s house, the uh-oh had a friend. And the friend of every uh-oh is —

“The cloth!” said Ma.

One cloth for Ma. One little cloth for Meethi.

Wipe, wipe, wipe. Wipe, wipe, wipe.

The milk went away. The table came back, shiny as before.

“Uh-oh happens,” said Ma. “And then?”

“All better!” said Meethi.

Later, Papa was carrying the dal, and — oops! — a splash jumped out of the bowl.

“Uh-oh!” said Papa.

“The cloth!” shouted Meethi, and she ran and got it herself. Wipe, wipe, wipe.

“Uh-oh happens,” said Papa. “And then?”

“All better!”

And do you know, that very evening, the cat knocked the flowerpot, and the soil went pffff across the floor, and everyone looked at the cat, and the cat looked at everyone.

“Uh-oh,” said Meethi kindly, for the cat, because cats can’t say it.

Broom and pan. Sweep, sweep, sweep. Soil back in the pot. Flower standing straight.

Uh-oh happens. To Meethi, to Papa, even to cats. Nobody shouts in Meethi’s house when the milk tips over — because everybody knows the secret:

An uh-oh is just an all-better that hasn’t happened yet.

Cup washed. Table shiny. Cat asleep in the clean corner.

All, all better. Goodnight.