Err A-Parent

[Ruahnna]

Err A-Parent (Heir apparent)
(for Matt and, of course, Jerry)

Piggy stepped out of her tap shoes as soon as she got off stage, stretched her complaining toes out before her and let out a long sigh. Good to be done for the week, she thought. Even my pantyhose hurt. She bent down and picked up her shoes, careful of her aching pantyhose, and climbed the steps to her dressing room.
Tomorrow, she thought, sighing with anticipation. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Kermit was leaving town tonight—within the hour actually—and she had the unheard of luxury of a whole weekend truly to herself. Tomorrow she would sleep in until it was time to dress for her salon appointment, then spend the rest of the day being pampered and pummeled, drowning her sorrows in a heated mud bath and an avocado-and-chocolate facial. She would have her ten little piggies pumiced and painted, and she would let them put a strength wrap on her hair to combat the hot stage lights. She might even let them lighten her honey-blonde hair just a smidge—it would offset her light tan. Next week was opening week for the new show, and she would need all of her energy and stamina fortified. Besides, a good rest and a little bit of help from the magicians at her favorite salon would ensure she looked her best. She had a good (trashy) romance to take with her, and a few scripts to look over. She had her ipod but doubted she’d use it in the mud bath. Nosiree, she did not plan to budge out of her comfort zone—not for anything.
All of these thoughts whirled through her brain as she gathered her things and turned off the lights in her dressing room. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she stepped out onto the balcony—and absolute chaos.
“But, but—“ Kermit was saying, looking thunderstruck. “I thought it was next week. I’m supposed to catch a plane in a couple of hours. Scooter, can’t you--”
He was talking to someone she could not see from that angle, and she started down the stairs.
“Sorry, Boss,” Scooter said hastily. “I’m scouting new filming locations tomorrow, remember?”
“Oh, right, right….” Kermit said distractedly. He was flipping through his appointment book frantically. Got to get that man an iphone, Piggy thought resignedly. Scooter was great, but even he couldn’t clone Kermit, and Kermit had a terrible habit of overbooking, especially with the theatre running while they’d begun filming. It was insanity to try to do this many things at the same time, but that wasn’t her problem. Living with Kermit while he tried to do this many things at the same time was her particular cross to bear.
She continued her descent while Kermit flipped open his phone and tried to call someone.
“Hello, Emily,” he said into the phone. “Look—I was wondering if you were free this weekend to—oh. Wow. Wow, um, I mean, sounds like fun. Don’t forget your parachute, okay? What? Oh—right, wocka wocka to you too.”
“Fozzie, do you think you could—“ Kermit trailed off at the panic in Fozzie’s eyes, and patted his arm. “Never mind.”
“Hey,” Rizzo said, interrupting. “Kid can bunk with us, Kerm. We’ll hardly know he’s there.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Kermit murmured, garnering an indignant look from the offended rat. “Um—I mean, thanks Rizzo, but I was looking for a more, um, parental environment.”
Parental environment? Piggy thought. What on earth--?
Rowlf came panting up to them. “Sorry, Kermit,” he said dejectedly. “I’ve got a house-watching job this weekend. I wouldn’t mind but I couldn’t do the driving. Maybe if we--”
Piggy turned the final corner of the staircase, and her blue eyes opened wide with pleasure. Of all the nice surprises! One skinny green arm waved in greeting.
“Hey, Aunt Piggy,” Robin chirped happily. “I’m here for spring break.”
Piggy listened to the general mayhem for a good 30 seconds longer, then rolled her eyes heavenward and waded into the midst. She caught Kermit by the arm, took his phone away from him and looked into his eyes.
“Is Moi correct in assuming you forgot Robin was coming this weekend?”
Kermit gulped, unhappy about looking so silly, but nodded at last. “Moi is, um, correct,” he admitted.
Piggy let out a long sigh, shook her head to indicate her exasperation, and leaned forward quickly to buss him on the cheek. “Have a good tour, Sweetie,” she said firmly, then to Robin, “C’mon, kid, you’re with me.”
‘But, but—“ Kermit stammered. He looked from Piggy to Robin, torn between gratefulness and worry.
“Yes?” Piggy said.
“It’s just that, um, your spa….” Kermit said softly. Piggy gave him a look, her hands on her hips, and Kermit gave it up, knowing he was fooling no one. “Have you—have you ever, um, you know, babysat anyone before, Piggy?”
I look after you, Piggy thought heatedly, but managed not to say it out loud.
“Uncle Kermit!” Robin protested, mortified at being characterized as a child.
Piggy was equally indignant. “Robin has stayed with us many times before,” Piggy said, her eyes frosty. “I think I can keep him from starving or running out into the street.”
“Well, I know, but…but, um, I’ve always been there, you know, before….” Kermit finished weakly, then turned to Robin.
“Robin, will you be okay?”
Piggy took a step toward him, and Kermit’s survival instincts kicked in.
“Um, I mean, will you be good for your Aunt Piggy?”
“Of course,” Robin said, still irked. Kermit looked at him and his expression softened. He reached out and put his hand on Robin’s shoulder, looked him in the eye.
“Your uncle is a doofus,” he admitted. “I got my wires crossed about the dates. I’ll just be gone a couple of days. You take care of your Aunt Piggy until I get back, ‘kay?”
Robin defrosted enough to nod, then Kermit pulled him in for a quick hug and a noogie over his laughing protests. Kermit let him go then, watching as his wife and his nephew walked out the door, and though he hoped they would, they did not look back.

“Where’s Uncle Kermit going?” Robin asked, slinging his Sesame Street backpack over his shoulder.
“Publicity tour,” Piggy said blithely. “Some state that starts with an M, I think.”
“He didn’t really forget I was coming, did he?” Robin’s bright eyes looked worried.
Piggy stopped walking and turned and looked at Robin fondly. “Of course not. He didn’t forget you—he’s been looking forward to you coming for a couple of months, now. He just got his dates mixed up.” She smiled to herself. “It’s been known to happen to the best of us,” she said dryly.
“He’s pretty busy, huh?” Robin said thoughtfully.
“Yes, but never too busy for you, dear,” Piggy said promptly. “He’s overbooked and too nice to say no to things that will benefit the theatre—even if he doesn’t really have time for them.
“Uh huh,” said Robin. “So—what are we going to do now?” He looked up at Piggy, and for the first time, Piggy felt a little thrill of panic. Despite her ire at his observation, Kermit had been right. Piggy had not been responsible for anyone who was completely dependent on her other than herself. Robin’s wide-eyed look of trust made her take a slow, steadying breath and, just as she was about to speak, Robin’s small hand slipped into her satin-gloved hand. The touch of that small hand made any obstacle seem irrelevant, and Piggy squeezed back and smiled down at him. She was a professional, and she was adaptable. She could take care of one sweet, smart, charming little frog by herself—piece of cake. But she was glad it was only for the weekend.

Several times that weekend, Piggy reminded herself firmly that several of Kermit’s brothers and sisters had dozens of children at the same time, raising large families without losing their minds. She comforted herself virtuously with the thought that Hilda was probably having a wonderful time at the spa, and felt self-righteous and smug about her selflessness. She had been unprepared for the amount of time one had to spend occupying the attention and energy of an active little frog, and she had entertained thoughts of locking herself in the closet if she had to read “The Monster at the End of This Book” one more time. But they had spent lots of time in the pool, and she had managed the food issue handily with the aid of carryout and drive-thru. Their one foray to eat out the first night had ended with Piggy sitting in a booth shaped like a giant clown shoe and surrounded by more noise than she had ever heard backstage. Robin had had a wonderful time romping through the play area while Piggy sat with every appearance of calm in her giant shoe as young mothers and astonished grandmothers snuck peeks at her famous profile and tried to keep themselves from opening staring. They had not attempted restaurant dining after that, and Piggy had counted herself lucky that the paparazzi had no spies at Clownburgers.
Kermit had come home tired and anxious Monday night to find Piggy supervising bedtime and reading with aplomb through a well-worn book of Mother Goose’s rhymes, complete with funny accents and comments on the clothing faux pas of the characters depicted.
“Do the Better Butter one, Aunt Piggy,” Robin had said sleepily, but they both looked up as the door swung open and Kermit’s figure was framed in the doorway. Robin bounded up out of bed and launched himself into his uncle’s arms. Kermit caught him easily and swung in a circle with Robin’s skinny arms and legs wrapped around him.
“Hiya, Robin,” he said. “Your uncle Kermit has sure missed you.” His eyes met Piggy’s over the top of Robin’s head, grateful and satisfied.
Piggy had stood up and started toward her husband, ready to welcome him home with an affectionate kiss, but she had stopped, startled, and waited until Robin had done the honors. At last, Robin was tucked back under the soft covers and kissed goodnight, and they were able to make their way out into the hall.
Kermit drew her after him into the living room, then stopped and looked at Piggy expectantly.
“Did everything, um, I mean….were you, er….did you even miss me?” he said at last, with a sheepish lop-sided smile that Piggy adored.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Very much. But he was a doll.” She reached out gently and cupped his face in one smooth hand. “You look tired though.”
Kermit nodded. “Couldn’t sleep on the plane. Too much turbulence.”
“Are you hungry?”
At that precise moment, Kermit’s stomach rumbled audibly and they both laughed. “Yeah,” he said ruefully. “Airplane peanuts and a package of chocolate-covered—“
“Don’t tell me,” Piggy teased, moving her hand to cover his mouth. Kermit just laughed and kissed that soft hand, following her into the kitchen. She made him a peanut-butter and gadfly sandwich and poured him a glass of orange juice. Even this degree of domesticity was a stretch for Piggy, and Kermit looked at the sandwich and back up at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Wow,” he said admiringly. “You’ve really taken to this. Should I get you one of those frilly aprons?”
Piggy turned and gave him a look before replacing the cap on the peanut-butter and snapping closed the tin of gadflies. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said dryly.
But Kermit just smirked, enjoying the picture. “Maybe you could take over for Annette Funicello in those commercials where—“ Piggy let out a little huff of indignation, spun Kermit’s chair around and proceeded to demonstrate her superiority to the grown-up mouseketeer by plopping into his lap and giving him a kiss that made him forget all about airlines and hunger and everything else. Before he had quite recovered, Piggy had pulled away and stood up, leaving him just a little stunned.
“I’m a pig of many talents,” she said airily. “And taking care of one little frog is nothing I can’t handle.”
Kermit found his voice at last. “What about big frogs?” he asked hopefully.
Piggy’s eyes blazed with challenge. “We’ll see,” she said, and started for the stairs.
Alone in the kitchen, Kermit chuckled and finished his sandwich. All his worrying had been for nothing. Just when he thought Piggy could not surprise him, she managed to reveal some hitherto unknown facet of her personality that he had never even suspected. Once again, she had risen to the occasion on his behalf, and taken care of his nephew with every appearance of consummate skill. His sandwich gone, Kermit gulped the rest of his juice and set the glass carefully in the sink. Sheesh, he was tired. He thought of the way Piggy had looked at him just now, and some of that tiredness evaporated. Since he would be playing uncle and caregiver for another eight days, he thought he’d best get himself off to bed.

 

[Katzi428]

Good. You didn't let Miss Piggy do anything bad to my little "froggie son" Robin.(In "Hensonville" I'm taking care of the young frog since the swamp doesn't have decent schooling) I know how the porcine princess can be. But then again if she did anything bad to Robin, she'd never hear the end of it from Kermit, right?

 

[The Count]

This story makes me happy for various reasons. Bringing back memories of younger days and summers gone by... Thank you for posting it and have a vonderful holiday weekend.

 

[Ruahnna]

[Ooh! But I'm not DONE! (Insert maniacal laugh here)]
Chapter 2

So began a tradition that had not altered materially even unto today. Robin came and went according to the schedule that best suited all the family, settling into his own bedroom in the big house and spending long weeks with them at the drop of a hat. School was flexible, and Robin kept up with his studies as a condition of the Bohemian lifestyle he loved. From that point forward, Robin came and went regardless of the demands of Kermit’s schedule, and Piggy and Robin not only managed but flourished when left to their own devices.
As Robin grew, however, things had changed. The Monster at the End of This Book had been replaced with discussions of books with more substance—if not more delight. Piggy and Robin found places that could cater to the tastes of a young frog with a seemingly hollow leg and a pig who took umbrage at certain items on the menu, and Piggy was never again forced to sit in over-sized footwear to enjoy a meal. When Robin was in school, things like ball practice and drama club were dealt with by whoever had the wherewithal to play taxicab and attend, and someone always seemed to make it to games and dress rehearsals despite the busy-ness of their lives.
Robin had just come back from a month-long summer visit to his Grandparents in order to attend school soccer camp, and though Kermit had been deep in the throes of post-production, Piggy had found her post-wrap schedule delightfully flexible. She had spent several warm afternoons sitting in the bleachers and watching Robin and his team-mates run up and down the green field. A straw summer hat and sunglasses had kept Piggy from her usual degree of conspicuousness, and though the other parents and small children might cut her admiring looks, she was not bombarded by unwanted attention. Kermit had threatened to buy her a “Soccer Mom” T-shirt, and the suggestion had been received with the same interest as his earlier offer to buy her a frilly apron. The only frilly apron Piggy had ever owned had come from the maid’s costume she had worn in an old English murder mystery, and that little scrap of tulle would have provided exactly no coverage had anyone tried to use if for its purported objective. Piggy had professed to have the same need for a t-shirt, but the image had made her smile on and off all week.

While she was watching Robin’s long, lanky form race up and down the field, she noticed the well-cut suit of an adult ram as he climbed easily into the bleachers, his eyes on the field. There were several youngsters of different denominations at Robin’s school, which was nice, since it made the young frog far less conspicuous that he might have been at a more traditional school, and Piggy wondered which of the young kids belonged to him. It occurred to her that that well-tailored back looked familiar, and she craned nonchalantly for a look at his face, but the big-horned ram was smoking a big cigar, his face politely averted. Piggy watched surreptitiously as he ground the cigar out carefully against one well-manicured hood, sniffed it experimentally, and then swallowed it with obvious relish. Suspicion was replaced by certainty.
“Billy!” she cried. “Billy Kidd.”
He looked around in surprise, but his face lit up at the sight of Piggy waving merrily from her seat in the bleachers. He clambered up with ease and settled next to her after adjusting his immaculate linen trousers. Piggy let him enfold her hand between his and raise it to his lips.
“As I live and breathe,” he said with gusto. “Never thought I’d see you at a game like this!” His eyes scanned the field quickly, settling at once on Robin’s lanky figure. “Don’t you tell me that one’s yours…?”
“Yes—and no,” Piggy said with a laugh. “Robin is Kermit’s nephew.”
“Kid’s got some moves,” Billy said thoughtfully. “How old is he?”
“Same age as your Nancy, I hear,” Piggy said. She gave him a look. “In fact, I’ve been hearing quite a lot about your daughter all week.”
“Well, well,” Billy said, his eyebrows climbing. “That would explain the sudden mania for soccer.” He gave a parental sigh and smiled. “Seems like a nice kid.”
“Very nice,” Piggy insisted. “Just like his uncle.”
“Good to know.”
“How’s Louise?” Piggy asked. Billy’s wife Louise was a team mascot.
“Oh—traveling. This is their busiest time of year, you know. It’s a little tough on Nancy, but it’s a short season, and Louise loves it, so….” He shrugged eloquently.
“And Norman?” There was a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes.
“Can’t do a darn thing with him,” Billy admitted ruefully. “I’ll tell him you asked about him.” He gave her a quick appraising look up and down—not disrespectful, but the thoughtful assessment of a man used to beautiful things. “You look terrific, Piggy. What are you up to these days? Kermit okay?”
“Wonderful. Moi is filming for Mon Capitan now.”
“Always good to hear. You do your best work for—“
His phone buzzed. He pulled it off his belt clip, looked at the number, scowled, and put it back in his clip.
“And vous? I believe I read some exciting news in the business section?” she prompted.
He waved it off. “Business is good. People got to eat.”
Practice was over, and the kids were moving toward them.
Robin, Nancy and Keri were talking, heads bent together, then Keri saw her Mom, waved and ran to join her. Robin and Nancy continued on, talking earnestly and animatedly about the practice. Robin said something that made Nancy laugh, nudge him hard with her shoulder and run to her dad with an impish grin over her shoulder.
“Hi, Daddy,” she cried, leaning her perspiring, grubby body against her father’s impeccable suit. He draped an arm around her, hugging her tight, and kissed the top of one gracefully curving horn fondly. “Hello Sweetheart—nice goal out there.”
“Thanks!” She beamed at him, proud he had noticed.
“Who’s your friend?”
Nancy slipped easily into the role of budding debutant. “Daddy, this is Robin the Frog. Robin, this is my father, William Kidd.”
Piggy stood back—not coaching—but swelled with pride at the way Robin squared his shoulders and put forth a firm hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”
The older goat took his hand gravely, looked Robin in the eye. “Pleasure, son.”
He did not, Piggy noted with satisfaction, mention Kermit, letting Robin stand on his own.
“Nancy tells me you’re thinking about soccer camp.”
“Oh!” Surprise lighted Robin’s face. He glanced at Nancy who smiled at him, making him blush and stammer, then plunged on. “Yes—that is, I’d like to, Sir.”
“Hope to see you there.” He shot Piggy a quick look, got a slight nod, and continued. “Nancy’s Mom and I are driving Nancy up the weekend before—see a few sights. If your folks say it’s okay, we’d be happy to take you with us—save them a trip.”
“Wow! I mean, wow—thanks! I mean—“ He turned to Piggy, hope and desperation on his face. “Can I Aunt Piggy? I mean, may I?”
Piggy nodded and patted his shoulder. “We’ll ask your uncle, but I’m sure he’ll say yes.”
“Oh—thanks, Aunt Piggy—thanks a bunch!”
Nancy stretched up and kissed her dad’s grizzled cheek.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she whispered.
“Sure, Honey—run along. I’ll be right there.”
The budding teenagers scrambled down, talking in hushed but excited tones.
Billy assisted Piggy down from the bleachers, smiling at the number of teenage boys that stopped their warm-ups to gawk, open-mouthed, at Piggy’s beguiling ankles. She accepted the help as her just due, then smiled a worthy thanks to her friend.
“Tell Louise to call me when she’s in town—we’d love to have you over for dinner.”
“I’ll do it—she’d love to see you.” He kissed her chastely on her proffered cheek. “Tell the little green ball-and-chain I said to call me—I might have some backers for him.”
“Billy!” she scolded, but her smile was warm.
“Easy to bet on a sure thing, Piggy. Good to see you” He strolled to his car, and Piggy waited until Robin had joined her, bright-eyed and breathless.
“Wow Aunt Piggy!” Robin said over and over. “Do you—do you think he’ll say yes?”
Piggy reached up and put a fond hand on the back of Robin’s neck, steering him toward the parking lot. “I do,” she said firmly. “Now let’s get something to eat.”
In the end, they compromised, going though two separate drive-thrus to accommodate Robin’s voracious appetite and Piggy’s more esoteric tastes. Almost as an afterthought, Piggy made a decidedly illegal u-turn and drove through a Starbucks, buying them both huge iced-coffee drinks. At home, they spread out their fare across the coffee table in the den and munched happily—Robin on a succession of fly-burger supremes, and Piggy on a generous bowl of antipasto. At last, all the paper wrappers had been collected and disposed of in the kitchen trash compactor, and they sat on opposite ends of the couch, feet tucked under them, sipping cold caffeine and occasionally licking the foam from their lips.
“Uncle Kermit’s never let me have this much caffeine at once,” Robin admitted, taking a big gulp.
“Good thing he won’t know about this,” Piggy said pointedly, and Robin laughed.
“Ah—don’t make me laugh. I should have stopped at three.” He clutched his middle, groaning, but his self-satisfied smile belied his complaint.
“You ordered ‘em,” Piggy said in a good imitation of a parental scold. “You need to take responsibility for your actions, young man.”
It was such a dead-on imitation of Kermit that it was a wonder the Robin did not choke to death— or spray the room with iced coffee. Piggy pounded him on the back matter-of-factly until he could breathe again.
“Aunt Piggy!” Robin was scandalized. “Has Kermit seen you do him? That was great! Have any of the guys seen it?”
Piggy gave him a genuinely stern look. “No, no, and don’t even think about it.” She nodded her head toward Robin’s room. “Hit the shower, kid—you stink.”
Robin grumbled but ambled into his room, and moments later Piggy heard the shower start. Robin re-emerged some 20 minutes later wearing jeans and a t-shirt and toweling his head. The jeans—which Piggy would have sworn were too long last week—were showing a little too much gangly ankle. The boy would need news ones—again. Robin flopped down next to her and reached for the remote.
“Homework,” Piggy murmured, not looking up from her script. She had the original and the day’s changes side-by-side before her, studying intently.
“Aww….” Robin whined, even as he slouched toward the backpack standing forlorn by the front door. Piggy had taken the precaution of looking through his backpack for any assignments that were supposed to be done over the spring break, not quite willing to take Robin’s word for it that he was entirely footloose and fancy free. David Copperfield was being dutifully plowed through on a nightly basis, and the other assignments were being obliterated one at a time. At this rate, Robin would have the entire second half of his spring break free of encumbrances. Within moments, he was scribbling his way through the math homework. Finishing with a flourish, he demanded Piggy call out his science vocabulary words, then let out a whoop worthy of Tarzan and turned on the TV.
Piggy sighed, got up and gathered her papers. “I’m going to soak,” she said, planting a kiss on top of Robin’s head. She did not, she noticed, have to bend down very far. “Call me if the house is on fire.”

(More to come)

 

[The Count]

Aw... I'm glad this story is allowing you somewhat more freedoms than usual. It's coming across as a good read. My sibs and I used to do vacation weekends at our grandparents when we were younger, and those kinds of things along with others are what this story is bringing back for me.

Nancy... Nancy the Nanny Goat from an animated insert?
Why is it that I like your add-on characters?

Additionally... This is making me think of that growin-up montage in that movie overlaid with the song Kodachrome by Paul Simon. Rully enjoying this, hope to read when you get the chance to post.

 

[Scooterfan5]

I am really enjoying this!

 

[Aaron]

This wonderful i miss you Ru!

 

[Ruahnna]

(Aw-thanks, Sweetie--I miss you too! But I'm baaack now!)

Chapter 3

The house was not afire, but Robin was absolutely beside himself when she emerged about 90 minutes later in a hostess gown and scuffs. Piggy took one look at his anxious face and dragged him over to the couch.
“What on earth?” she said, and Robin shook his head abruptly.
“It’s nothing, I mean—it’s not nothing, it’s just that….we were gonna, you know, I—we were supposed to have a big post-camp party at the gym but they’ve got some sortof of science fair expo scheduled for the same day. They didn’t realize that they’d over-booked until today.”
With some difficulty, Piggy followed this disjointed train of thought, trying to figure out the exact source of Robin’s obvious distress. “Sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t realize you were involved in the science expo.”
“I’m not,” Robin mumbled. “I’m involved in the soccer camp.”
“Yes, I know,” Piggy said, striving for patience. “I’ve been driving you every day.” Robin had appreciated the personal gesture very much—even more so because Piggy drove him in the sleek green sports car she had bought a mortified Kermit for his birthday.
“And, um, the soccer camp was going to use the gym. For the, um, party.” He looked up hopefully and Piggy inhaled sharply. Oh my, did he have the same devastating pollywog eyes his uncle had! Momentarily distracted, it took her a minute to catch up, then her shockingly blue eyes flew wide. If she’d had eyebrows, they’d have climbed to her hairline.
“Please!” Robin pleaded, desperate, but Piggy held a hand up for silence and Robin fell silent.
Piggy took a deep breath and held it, thinking hard.
“Robin the Frog,” she growled, “do I take it you are asking me if you can use your uncle’s house—my house—for some sort of adolescent sports bash?”
“Oh, please, Aunt Piggy! Please—it would be so…everyone would think I was—that you were, I mean, that you and Kermit were sooo awesome.” The poor kid was literally wringing his hands.
That Piggy could remain dispassionate in the face of this much adolescent angst was a pretty compelling testament to her qualifications for motherhood. She looked at Robin calmly.
“I was not aware our awesomeness was ever in question,” she said dryly, and Robin shot her a look. Was she…teasing him? And did that mean she was actually considering his request!?
Piggy closed her eyes for a moment to block out the sight of his abject groveling, then sighed and considered. On one hand, she knew what Kermit would say. Much as he loved Robin, the thought of hordes of young, um, persons running rampant (rampart? hee hee) through the house—their haven—was a definite no-go. On the other hand, Kermit was out of town until Sunday. The Party was Saturday, after camp was over. Theoretically, they could have the party and clean up before Kermit even arrived home. She thought about it, debating how bad it would be to have to tell him about it after the fact, and opened her eyes.
“Yes,” she said, “but—“
At “Yes,” however, Robin had fallen to his knees and thrown his arms around her waist. “You are the best, Aunt Piggy—the absolute best Aunt in the whole wide world! I love you! I—you are definitely the most awesome parental unit on the planet.”
Piggy waited it out. Men throwing themselves at her feet was nothing new, but the younger ones tended to be more dramatic about it. When Robin had recovered, Piggy patted him fondly on the head.
“Yes,” she repeated, “but.”
“Whatever it is—“
“Stop right there,” she insisted severely, and Robin clamped his lips shut. “No nephew of mine would ever give up all his bargaining rights at the beginning of a negotiation.”
“Yes ma’am,” Robin mumbled, but he was smiling hugely. “Tell me what you’d like from me in return.”
“For starters, please get up.”
Robin clamored to his feet and grinned at her. Piggy found she had to look up just a touch to meet his eyes. She grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the couch.
“Sit.” Robin sat.
Piggy sat primly beside him, and picked up one of his school notebooks, flipping it open to a blank page.
“Good parties don’t just happen,” she said. “Good parties are made. If we are going to have a successful party—whether we are entertaining dignitaries or…soccer players, we have to plan.”
“Yes ma’am,” Robin said, his eyes alert and interested. “I’ll try to be a quick study.”
They got down to work. Neither of them mentioned Kermit, who was—after all—away and who would not—after all—know or care about the party until after it was over. There was plenty of time to tell him, plenty of time after all the wheels were in motion.
Theoretically, anyway.

 

[Katzi428]

Ooooohhh!!! I like it!! I like it!!! (Kind of makes me feel guilty that several months ago that in HV I had had Robin call Kermit about something & Miss Piggy answered .She told him that Kermit had no interest in him & THAT'S why Robin was shipped to HV. I told Robin it was a lie & so did Kermit when he called back. I wound up telling the pork princess off.)
LOL about Miss Piggy wearing a "Soccer Mom" shirt & Billy Kidd referring to Kermit as the "green ball & chain!"

 

[Muppetfan44]

Nice new story! Excited to read more!