Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle said, "Don't worry so, Mrs. O'Toole. Some of the most charming children I know were once Answer-Backers. Fortunately Mary has only just begun so she can be cured in no time at all. You drop by here after lunch and I will give you Penelope Parrot to keep for a while. Mrs. Garrison has been using Penelope but she has had her for a month now and Garry should be cured by this time."

Growing up, I longed to live in the same town as Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. No one understood children better than that plump, merry, grandmotherly widow of an honest-to-goodness pirate. Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle would understand that I didn't mean to break the TV, neglect to check out my library books before taking them home, or borrow my sister's sweater without asking (then stain it with cherry soda).

In her four MRS. PIGGLE-WIGGLE books, the first published in 1947, author Betty MacDonald mixes common sense with creative parenting techniques and just a touch of magic to cure the book's children of their frustrating habits. We honor her memory at our home by keeping a shelf of "cures" to be used in trying situations

Grouchy Powder, cinnamon sugar in an antique shaker, is to be liberally sprinkled on the toast of a child who has risen on the wrong side of the bed. An old vanilla extract bottle holds honey mixed with a drop of lemon to place on the tongue of a whiner. I also keep a stash of horehound drops and other unusual hard candies that I've wrapped in bright metallic foil to ease hurts, real and imagined. A bottle of Magic Distracto Bubble Potion can be used to calm a slightly injured child who has just noticed he's bleeding (and help him take deep breaths). The more bubbles you blow, the less you bleed.

As Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle herself might have gently noted, this cure comes in quite handy at the doctor's office at vaccination time.