Timmy knew if he was a good boy, his mommy would give him a treat. But if Timmy wasn’t being a good boy, he would get in trouble.
Timmy didn’t like to get into trouble.
Cookies were one of Timmy’s favorite treats. His mommy made the best cookies in the whole world.
The smell of his mommy making cookies one morning made Timmy act especially good. He made his bed, cleaned his room and even played dolls with his little sister. (He didn’t like to play dolls. That was girl stuff!)
When the oven timer made a beeping noise that meant the cookies were done, Timmy carefully walked down the stairs. He wanted to run, but his mommy told him that he should walk down the stairs, and not run.
Timmy found his mommy in the kitchen. She was wearing big mitts on her hands to take the cookies out of the oven.
“Mommy,” Timmy said, “I’ve been a really good boy today.”
His mommy smiled at him. “Yes you have. Thank you.”
“Can I, I mean, may I have a cookie?”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” his mommy said as she placed the cookie pan on the top of the oven. “These cookies aren’t for you.”
“But—but—but I’ve been a good boy! You even said so. Why am I getting punished?”
His mommy took off the big mitts and then knelt down to Timmy’s level. “Timmy, you aren’t being punished. These cookies are for Mrs. Jones next door. It’s her birthday. She likes peanuts. You can’t have peanuts. You’re allergic to them.”
Tears streamed down Timmy’s cheeks. “I don’t understand. What doesn’t allergic mean?”
“It means they will make you sick.”
Timmy still didn’t understand. Why was something bad happening to him when he was being so good?