A Mulish Match

In an ordinary small town, in an ordinary house, lived an ordinary Wendy. Wendy was in the second year at school, and she was doing well. But at home someone or other was always complaining about her.

It was like this. Her grandma would call out:

“Wendy, please could you bring me the sugar jar from the pantry!”

And then she would have to wait, and call out to Wendy three more times, before Wendy finally went off to the pantry – and brought her a jar of… salt.

Or her grandad would say:

“Wendy, please come and help me feed the chickens!”

But Wendy would be too busy drawing a picture of a lovely grey horse, so she would reply:

“I’ll come, Grandad, but in about half an hour, okay?”

Only Grandad couldn’t wait half an hour. The chickens were hungry and he had many other things to do, so he went and fed them on his own.

Every morning, Wendy’s mum and dad begged her and nagged her to get dressed faster. And to finish eating her toast. But it didn’t help – Wendy was always the last one in her class to arrive at school. And her mum and dad were always late to work, even when they drove across town at race car speed.

It went on like this every day. Wendy just wouldn’t listen when other people needed something from her. She just carried on doing whatever she felt like doing. She cut, pasted, drew, and daydreamed. Most often about horses, because she loved them more than anything else.

One day, her mum had an idea.

“My little Wendy,” she said, “if you can get up and dressed quickly every morning this week, and we’re not the last to arrive…