Bright and early Saturday morning, Dora woke up. She stretched and yawned. She looked out the window. The sun was shining. Birds were eating seeds from the feeder. Her dog was playing with a pinecone.
Dora was puzzled. Everything looked right, but something was wrong. What could it be?
She looked around her room. Her clothes were in her closet. All her books were on the shelves. Her desk was neat. She had put all her toys away. Her room was just right. Something was wrong, though. What could it be?
Dora listened. She could hear birds singing outside. She heard her dog bark. The house was quiet. Wait a minute! The house was quiet. That didn't seem right. Someone should be up by now.
Dora got out of her bed. She put on her slippers. She tiptoed to her parents' room. They were sound asleep. She tiptoed to her brother's room. He was sleeping, too. Well, Dora thought to herself, who is going to cook breakfast?
Dora sat down on the stairs. She needed to think. She could cook breakfast. She thought about what she could cook. She could not bake cinnamon rolls. She did not know how to use the oven. She could not make fruit salad. Her mother said she could not use a knife. That meant she couldn't peel, slice, or chop!
Finally, Dora had an idea. I will make scrambled eggs. I can do that. I can stir. I can break. I can add salt and pepper. I can pour. That's what I'll do. I'll make scrambled eggs!
Dora tiptoed quickly down the stairs. She went into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. She got eight eggs. She walked over to the stove. She dropped one egg. It broke all over the floor.
"That's okay," Dora said to Spot. "Henry only needs one egg. He is little."Paragraphs 10 to 25:
For the complete story with questions: click here for printable