It's A Small World (or More From Shmisneyland)

"Can I get out my cookies now?" asked Morgan.

"It's not that bad," I said.

"Jail is boring," said The Dog.

"But I want to blow them up," said Morgan. (As a reminder, Morgan uses cookies in her magic. And she likes blowing things up.)

"Rich, can you stop her?" I asked.

"Mom put you in charge," said my brother, his mouth full.

"In charge of Morgan? What was she thinking?"

"She was thinking you're older than us."

"I really, really want to blow them up," said Morgan.

"Why all this rage?" I asked. "They're small. They're animatronic. They sing."

"Yes," said my sister. "They sing the same song, over and over and over, and Rich has dragged us onto this ride three times, and something is going to explode. It's me or the international twitching robot children. I choose the children."

"I think she's serious," said The Dog.

"Don't worry about it," said Rich, swallowing.

"How can I not?" I asked.

My brother smiled at me.

"You ate the cookies," I said.

"I like this song," said Rich.