Drip. Drip. Drip. Oh, no! It had started to rain. I had been having such a good time, too. My friends and I were having a picnic in a beautiful meadow. I was eating friend chicken, and watching Jessi fly her kite. Then the rain started. Drip. Drip. Drip. I felt it rolling down my face.

I wrinkled my nose, then threw my arm over my face, trying to avoid the drops.

“Stop for a second!” I heard somebody hiss. “She’s waking up.”

My brain began to clear, and the picnic scene dissolved. I opened one eye. I wasn’t in a meadow with my friends. The picnic had been a dream. I was in my bed, and I was surrounded by four grinning boys. One of them made a furtive move to hide what he was holding, but I was able to catch a glimpse of it.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Jordan?” I asked. “Hmmmm…. An eyedropper filled with water. Very interesting.”

Byron, Adam, and Nicky giggled. Jordan looked nervous.

“We — we just wanted to wake you up,” he explained. “Uncle Joe’s coming tomorrow, remember? We have a lot to do!”

“And you thought the water-torture method would be the best way to wake me up?” I asked.

Jordan nodded. “It did work pretty well,” he said.

“Oh, it did, did it?” I asked, trying to sound menacing. I put on a big frown and threw off my covers. “Well, I’ll teach you a lesson about waking up big sisters by dripping water all over them!” I said, reaching out and grabbing him. I pulled him onto the bed and started to tickle his belly.

“Stop!” Jordan shrieked. He giggled madly as I continued to tickle him.

“Not until you promise never to do it again!”

“Okay, okay!” he said, breathless. “I promise!”

“I don’t!” yelled Byron, jumping onto the bed. Adam and Nicky weren’t far behind. Soon my bed was a mass of squirming, giggling, shrieking boys. Everybody was tickling everybody else. We were having a blast. This may not be the way that most normal families start their Saturday mornings, but in the Pike household it’s not out of the ordinary.

Vanessa didn’t even blink an eye when she came to the door and saw us. “Come on, you guys,” she said. “I’ve been up for hours, helping Dad make waffles. It’s time for breakfast.”

“Waffles!” yelled Byron.

“Yay!” shouted Adam.

“Yum!” said Nicky, licking his lips. “I want strawberry jam on mine.”

“What am I going to have?” asked Jordan. Jordan doesn’t like waffles, as strange as that may sound. He’s the only person I ever met who doesn’t. But, as I said before, there aren’t many foods that all the Pikes agree upon. And my parents don’t try to make us eat things we don’t like. They figure they’d spend way too much time arguing with us if they tried to enforce rules about food. So they just stock up on a lot of healthy stuff, and everybody is allowed to eat whatever they want.

“How about if I make you a peanut-butter-banana-and-salami sandwich?” I asked. “Just to prove that I forgive you for waking me up that way.”

“All right!” said Jordan. He loves that disgusting combination. In fact, he invented it, and he’s very proud of the fact. He even sent the recipe for it (“Take two pieces of bread and toast lightly …” it begins) to a “Stupendous Sandwiches” contest in some magazine. He never did hear what the judges thought of it. I guess they were too busy taking Alka-Seltzer.

“Mmm, those waffles smell great, Dad,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. I went right to work on Jordan’s sandwich.

“Well, we have a busy morning, so I thought we should eat a hearty breakfast,” he said. “Why don’t you grab a plate and sit down? This batch is just about done.”

As soon as Jordan’s sandwich was ready, I gave it to him. Then I brought my plate of waffles into the dining room and sat down next to Margo. She was eating a bowl of Cheerios, with blueberries sprinkled on top.

“Didn’t you feel like waffles today, Margo?” I asked. She can be a picky eater; a food she loves one day will seem totally unappetizing the next.

She shook her head. “Nope.” She toyed with her cereal, using her spoon to chase the blueberries around the bowl. “Anyway, I like the way the blueberries turn the milk purple,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She sounded dreamy. “Ms. Cook says that purple is her favorite color,” she added. Ms. Cook is Margo’s teacher, and Margo is crazy about her. Sometimes I get tired of hearing about Ms. Cook.

“Just lovely,” I answered.

By the time Dad finished making all the waffles and had a chance to sit down and eat some himself, the rest of us were almost done with breakfast. Adam ate the last bite of his waffle and stood up. “Hold on!” said Dad. “We have to make some plans.” Adam sat down again and looked expectantly at Dad. “Uncle Joe will be coming at about ten tomorrow morning,” Dad went on. “It would be nice if his room was ready by then. We’ll need to —”

“Do you think he’ll show us that trick where he turns a handkerchief into a mouse?” interrupted Claire.

“He might,” said Dad. “If you ask nicely. I’d forgotten that I told you about that trick. Boy, he was good at that. He could really make it look like this little mouse was running up his arm …” Dad looked kind of happy and faraway, as if he were remembering something wonderful. “And he was great with animals,” he went on. “He helped me teach Spanky some of the most amazing tricks. Did I ever tell you about the one where —”

“Where Spanky would play dead until somebody said the magic word?” asked Adam. “I remember that story. I wish we had a dog, so Uncle Joe could teach it to do stuff like that.”

“Maybe he could teach Frodo some tricks,” said Claire.

We all laughed, and Claire looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Claire,” I said. “It’s just that hamsters aren’t like dogs. They aren’t so good at learning tricks. Mostly they just want to eat and sleep and run on their wheels.”

“Sometimes Frodo stands on his hind legs,” mused Jordan. “I wonder if he’s trying to do a trick then.”

“I think he’s just trying to get out of his cage,” said Adam. “He likes to run around in our room and hide under stuff.”

“Okay,” said Dad. “We’re off the subject here. I’m sure Uncle Joe will be happy to meet Frodo, but for now what we need to figure out is how we can make the den into a comfortable bedroom. The couch in there pulls out into a perfectly fine bed, so that’s all set. And I’m going to put up some hooks for Uncle Joe to hang his clothes on. Does anybody else have ideas about what we can do?”

“I think we should take your desk out of there and put in a night table instead,” said Mom. “That way he’ll have more room, and you won’t have to bother him if you need to work at your desk.”

“Good idea,” said Dad. “What can we use for a night table?”

“How about my toy chest?” asked Nicky. “I never use it anyway.” That sure was true. The boys’ room looked like a toy store that had been hit by a small tornado: G.I. Joes, Ninja Turtles, and Hot Wheels were strewn over every surface.

“I think my bookshelf would be better,” said Jordan. “It has more room to store things.”

“No!” said Nicky. “I want him to use my toy chest!”

Jordan drew a breath, but before he could say anything, Mom spoke up. “Let’s try not to get into any arguments,” she said. “It’s exciting to have Uncle Joe come stay with us, but it’s a big change, too. Things are going to be different around here, and we’ll have to make adjustments. Let’s try to work together on this, okay?”

“Okay,” said Nicky. “But I still want Uncle Joe to use my toy chest,” he added.

“I think that’ll be fine,” said Mom, with a warning glance at Jordan. “And maybe you three boys would like to contribute some artwork, to make the room cheery for Uncle Joe?”

“Okay,” said the triplets.

“I’m going to draw Leonardo fighting Shredder,” said Byron.

“I’m going to draw Calvin and Hobbes,” said Adam.

“I’m going to draw a picture of Uncle Joe,” said Jordan. He paused for a moment. “What does he look like, anyway?”

“Good question,” said Dad. “I haven’t seen him in years. I remember that when I was a boy, I thought Uncle Joe looked like he should have been a cowboy. He had this rugged face, and clear blue eyes that —”

“Ahem,” said Mom. “How about if we get to work?”

“Right!” said Dad. “Okay, Nicky, let’s go get your toy chest. Then we’ll need some help —” he looked over at me “— moving that big old desk out of there.”

“I’ll dust everything,” said Vanessa. That’s the one cleaning job she likes to do. She takes the big feather duster and waltzes around dreamily, dusting here and there. Sometimes she forgets to finish one room before she starts the next, but she does her best.

“I want to make a special surprise for Uncle Joe,” said Margo.

“That’s nice,” said Mom. “What kind of surprise?”

“It’s a secret,” said Margo. I could tell she was trying to sound mysterious.

“A secret?” asked Claire. She loves secrets. “Can I help?”

Margo started to shake her head, but Mom gave her a Look. “It would be a big help if you would let Claire work on the surprise with you,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” said Margo. “But you have to promise not to tell what it is until it’s done,” she said to Claire.

“I promise!” Claire and Margo headed off for their room.

The triplets were already busy in the rec room, where they keep their art supplies. Making “art” for Uncle Joe’s room would keep them occupied for hours. Finally, everybody had a job. The house buzzed with activity for the rest of the morning.

I helped Mom neaten the den, open out the couch, and make the bed. I helped Dad move his big desk out of the den and into a corner of the dining room. I sent Vanessa, who had finished dusting, to get a set of clean towels to put out for Uncle Joe. Once in a while, I checked up on the triplets and on Margo and Claire. And all day I wondered about what it would feel like to have another person living with us — an older person. I haven’t spent much time with old people, because my grandparents all live pretty far away, so I don’t really know how to act around them. I’d seen those shows on TV where the kindly grandfather teaches the kids lessons about life, but somehow I wasn’t convinced that those shows were always so realistic. I had a feeling that having Uncle Joe around might take some getting used to.

It wasn’t long before the room looked clean and homey. The bed was made up with fresh sheets, and the covers were turned back invitingly. We’d set a small reading lamp on top of Nicky’s toy chest, and Dad had hung a row of hooks along the wall. The triplets had made a big deal about putting up their artwork, and I had to admit that their pictures looked cheery and bright.

Margo and Claire were still hard at work on their project as I got ready to leave for my sitting job with our new clients, the Craines. I heard them giggling, and at one point a paint-splattered Claire wandered into my room and asked me to show her how to draw a tulip. I had no idea what they were up to, but I decided to let Margo keep her secret for the time being. Everything else was all set for Uncle Joe’s arrival. I was sure he was going to feel welcome at the Pike household.