Jack Moffitt had dedicated his morning to spending time with Snowstripe. His faithful and intelligent Arabian was getting up there in age, but acted no differently than he did when first assigned to Moffitt 22 years ago, which prompted Moffitt to say, "You're far older than me in horse years, yet in better shape. My lower back is a nuisance."

He was glad that he could spend his days off doing things like this, while trusting his Egyptian cobra guardian, Anah, to tutor his nine-year-old son, Jules, in the house. Anah taught him far more than just academics, and had started teaching him the basics of home care just a week ago. So far, the house hadn't burned down, which Moffitt considered a success.

Something began nagging at Moffitt while he watched Snowstripe grazing. He glanced toward the house, and shrugged. I'm off today. I shouldn't be worrying about anything. It's a nice day, just enjoy it. Moffitt closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the sun on his face.

The nagging feeling persisted, even while moving on to clean Snowstripe's pen in the stable. He kept glancing in the direction of the house, and kept trying to dismiss it. When he finished cleaning, he went back out to check on Snowstripe, and saw the horse standing by the fence, as if he had been waiting for Moffitt. Even Snowstripe was occasionally looking toward the house.

"Oh, this can't be good," Moffitt said. "You sense something, too, don't you?" He sighed, patting the side of Snowstripe's neck. "Best go see what it is, then. I'll be right back." With that, Moffitt marched back to the house, wondering what awaited him inside. He opened the door, and was immediately struck in the face with the tart smell of—

Berries? Moffitt looked in the kitchen, and was stunned to see the aftermath of an eruption of various fruits from a bowl and a hand mixer covering the entirety of the kitchen. The cabinets, the counter, the sink, the window above the sink, the fridge, the floor, and the ceiling were all painted with the juice, flesh, and seeds of blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, and wineberries. Several baskets were on the counter, containing more berries, which were also covered in the remains of their fruity brethren.

"Oh… Oh, dear." Moffitt paled when he saw the berry carnage extended out to the living room. He looked down to see there were stains on the floor resembling small socked feet, and a single stain that traveled with serpentine motion. There were handprints on the bathroom door, and the bathroom itself was closed. Moffitt could hear sobbing inside, followed by shushing.

"Dad's going to be so mad," Jules whimpered.

"It was an accident," Anah replied. "Hold still so I can get you cleaned up, dear."

"No, he's going to kill us." Jules sobbed.

"No, he will not. Just relax, calm down, and then we will go back outside and clean the kitchen."

"B-But I can't reach the ceiling, Miss Anah, even with a chair."

"I will take care of everything that you cannot reach, dear. It is alright."

Moffitt leaned against the wall, unsure of how to feel about this. On one hand, he was furious at the mess, but he was also curious as to how it happened in the first place. He gave a quiet sigh, hating the fact that Jules sounded terrified. At least he was trying to clean up. As long as he's taking responsibility for his actions, it's alright. Accidents happen. Moffitt glanced back at the mess. Hopefully we don't have to throw anything away because it can't be cleaned.

He waited for Jules and Anah to leave the bathroom. Jules immediately began crying again when he saw his father. "I'm sorry, Dad! I made the mess! Miss Anah was showing me how to make pie and I tried using Mum's mixer a-and I set it too high!"

"You're learning. Everyone makes mistakes when they're learning," Moffitt said. "You're not getting punished."

"Really?" Jules sniffed.

"Really. As long as you clean up, alright?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Okay. Let me go put Snowstripe back in the stables and then I'll come help you."

Jules nodded, though he still looked ashamed of himself.

Moffitt went back out to the pasture, where Snowstripe was waiting for him. "Nothing to worry about," Moffitt said. "Jules created the Mount Vesuvius of berries trying to make a pie."

Snowstripe made a sound that somewhat resembled laughter.

"Oh, it wouldn't be funny if you saw my bloody kitchen." Moffitt led Snowstripe out of the pasture. "I can't be angry at Jules, though. He made a mistake, he admitted to making a mistake, and he is trying to remedy it." His heart became heavy. "He was terrified I was going to punish him over it. Now, if he ran away from it and tried to hide it, then I'd be mad, but he didn't. I'm not going to punish him."

Once Snowstripe was secured in his pen, Moffitt headed back up to the house, where Jules and Anah had started cleaning the kitchen with sponges and rags.

"Is Mum going to be mad?" Jules asked.

"If we do a good job, she might not even know what happened when she comes home," Moffitt replied. "She won't be mad."

"Promise?"

"Well, I can't really promise that, but I highly doubt she'll get mad. Don't worry about it."

It took a couple of hours to get every last berry splatter cleaned, and Jules started to relax as the kitchen looked less and less like anything had ever happened. The only trace of berry that remained was in the mixing bowl, but they had been left so long that they had gotten hard.

"The pie was my idea in the first place," Anah said. "I should also apologize."

"Neither of you should be worrying about anything," Moffitt groaned. "Stop apologizing. It's bad enough I have that problem."

"So, no pie?" Jules asked.

"There are still some berries left that we can use," Anah replied. "We could start over."

"Tell you what," Moffitt said. "Let me make the pie filling."

"Jules should learn, though."

Moffitt looked at his son. "Do you want to give it another try?"

"I don't know, Dad." Jules looked at the floor.

"Would you try again if I supervise?"

"I thought I was supervising," Anah pouted.

"Well, now I am, because you didn't do a very good job."

Jules grinned. "Mr. Dietrich said that to Mr. Troy when we accidentally ran over his flowers with a lawnmower. Driving was fun until that happened."

Moffitt's eyes widened. "Wait—Troy let you drive a lawnmower?!"

"He did, Dad." Jules frowned. "Are you mad?"

"Yes, but not at you." Moffitt quietly cursed to himself while grabbing the phone and making a long-distance call. "Anah, take Jules out of the house."

"Why?" Anah asked.

"Because I need to yell at Troy, and I don't care if it's only seven in the morning over there."

"Alright. Have fun, dear."

Moffitt waited patiently for the call to connect. He was ready to start shouting when he heard someone pick up, but stopped when he heard Shauna's voice saying, "Hello?"

"Hello, Shauna, it's Jack," Moffitt said. He grit his teeth slightly. "May I speak to your husband, please?"

"You may." Shauna's voice became somewhat faint as she stepped away from the phone. "Jack's calling. He doesn't sound happy. What did you do?"

"I haven't done anything," Troy replied. "Why's he mad?"

"I don't know. Ask him."

"Alright." Troy took the phone. "What's going on, Moffitt? Shauna says you're upset."

Moffitt took a breath. "You let my son drive a lawnmower?!"

"Who told you that?"

"Jules did! You let him drive a bloody lawnmower and you destroyed Dietrich's flowers!"

"Okay, just to clarify, I didn't let him drive. I was in control of the lawnmower, but I let him steer, and, yes, we may have gotten a bit close to Dietrich's plants. Nobody got hurt. Just Dietrich's hydrangeas."

"That was still highly irresponsible of you!"

"Moffitt, if you really want to get mad, call Tully and ask about the sledding trip down that steep hill near his property this past winter."

"He took Jules on that?!"

"Yes. Yes, he did."

Moffitt was fuming and cursing as he hung up and began making a phone call to Kentucky.