Peter Rabbit - The Next Day
Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

I'd recently been thinking about "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" by Beatrix Potter, and started wondering what would happen the day after Peter's adventure's in Mr McGregor's garden. That musing turned into the following vignette. Enjoy! :)

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I let out a deep sigh, then said, "Peter, I know you're awake."

My youngest child opened one eye, then asked, "Am I still in trouble?"

"That depends," I said as I sat on the edge of Peter's bed.

"On what?"

I closed my eyes while trying to decide which question to ask first. Being a single mother wasn't easy, especailly with a child who seemed on the same self-destructive path as my dearly departed husband.

A muffled voice said, "I'm s-sorry about losing m-my clothes ... again."

The grief and frustration I'd been feeling all night took a step back when I opened my eyes and saw the small mound trembling under the covers. I peeled back the top corner until I saw a worried face, then said, "I'm more concerned than upset."

Big brown eyes blinked at me, then closed. A shimmering tear leaked out as Peter said, "I'm sorry, Mother."

My heart nearly broke as I brushed away the tear. "You're so much like your father."

"You mean ... getting in trouble all the time?"

"Well, there is that," I said while allowing a corner of my mouth to curve up. "But he was also sweet, gentle, and ... different."

"Different? In what way?"

"Well, one day, when I'd come home early from the bakery, I found him ... wearing one of my dresses."

My youngest child's eyes popped open. "Wow ... really?"

I nodded, then said, "When I asked him about it, he made an excuse about it just being a joke. Then he started doing some reckless things, until, well ... you know what eventually happened."

Peter nodded, then asked in a tiny voice, "Were you mad at him?"

"For what?" I asked back.

"For ... wearing your clothes."

It felt like I was wandering into sensitive territory, so chose my words carefully as I said, "Well ... I certainly was ... surprised. But I definitely wasn't angry." I brushed my youngest's quivering whiskers as I added, "I definitely wouldn't be upset if you wanted to borrow one of your sister's clothes."

"I ... but ... I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I ... I'm a boy."

"So?"

"But boys can't wear girl clothes?"

"Well, you're all out of clothes, so you may need to for now."

"Ah," Peter said as he nodded. "So, this is my punishment?"

"Of course not," I said while shaking my head. "Think of it as ... an opportunity."

My youngest child nibbled at his, or perhaps her lower lip, then asked, "Would it really be okay?"

I stood up and smiled. "Absolutely. Why don't we go see if one of your sisters has something they'd be willing to share?"