Finn's Backwards Day

Finn's eyes opened.

But he didn't get out of bed.

Not the normal way.

Today was a Backwards Day.

He slid his feet out first, where his head should be. Wiggle, wiggle, thump. His slippers were on the floor. He put his right slipper on his left foot. He put his left slipper on his right foot. He stood up and took a wobbly, backwards step.

His tummy rumbled.

A backwards rumble.

A elbmur-elbmur-elbmur.

Time for breakfast. But first—clothes.

He pulled his pajama shirt off over his feet. That was tricky.

He found his favorite tiger shirt. He put it on backwards. The big, roaring tiger face was on his back, and the little tag tickled his chin.

He grabbed his pants. Instead of putting his legs in, he tried to put his head in. The pants flopped over his eyes. Everything was dark and blue. "Moooom!" he giggled, his voice all muffled.

He finally put his pants on the right way. Well, the backwards way. The pockets were on his bottom.

He walked backwards down the hall to the kitchen.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His mom was making toast. "Good morning, my little—" She stopped. "Finn, your shirt is on backwards."

"It's Backwards Day!" Finn announced.

His mom smiled. She put a piece of toast on his plate.

Finn turned the toast upside down. He tried to eat the bottom first. It was dry and scratchy.

He picked up his fork and tried to eat with the handle. It didn't pick up anything at all.

Then he saw his glass of milk. So full. So white. So… forwards.

Finn reached for the glass to drink it from the wrong side. But his backwards elbow bumped the glass.

Woops!

White milk rushed across the blue table. A great big puddle with little toast-crumb islands. It dripped off the edge. Plink. Plonk. Plink.

Backwards Day was a messy day.

After cleanup, Finn went outside. Backwards, of course.

He walked backwards to the sandbox. He tried to throw sand into the pail. It went everywhere else.

He walked backwards to the swing. He sat on his tummy and tried to push himself with his nose. That just made him dizzy.

Then he saw the big, yellow slide.

Finn had a brilliant backwards idea. He would slide UP.

He put his feet on the bottom of the slide. He tried to walk up.

His sneakers went squeak-slip!

He tried again. Squeak-slip-thump! He landed on his bottom in the soft grass.

One more time. He took a running start. He scrambled, his hands and feet slipping on the smooth yellow slide. He was almost halfway up when— whoooosh! He slid all the way back down. Bonk.

He sat in the grass. The tag on his shirt tickled his neck now. His tummy rumbled again. A normal, hungry rumble this time. A rumble-rumble-rumble.

Being backwards wasn't very fun anymore.

Slowly, Finn walked back to the house. Forwards.

His mom was waiting with a plate of apple slices and a cookie.

He sat down at the clean blue table.

He picked up a crisp, red apple slice. He took a bite. A forwards bite. Crunch.

Then he picked up the cookie. He took another bite.

It was the best cookie he had ever tasted.