Switcharound by Lois Lowry

late-night breeze continued to rustle the leaves on the trees in Herbie and Lillian's yard. That was all.
    J.P. huddled on his chair and wrapped his arms around himself against the chilly air. He gave an exasperated snort, and Caroline could see the look on his face, even in the dark. It was his "Anyone could have told you that" look.
    "Caroline," he said with a resigned tone, "switch them back. It's that easy."
    "No," said Caroline, "it isn't. I wish it were."
    "Okay, so if you switch them back, then the one who has the earache is Holly. And Holly is allergic to penicillin. So you have to explain to Lillian that they were switched, and that's embarrassing, I grant you. But at least you don't end up giving penicillin to the wrong baby. That would be
worse
than embarrassing. That would be homicide, I think."
    "The problem is, I'm not sure which one is which."
    "Huh?" J.P. peered at her through the dark. "I thought you said you switched them."
    Caroline tried to explain. It had seemed logical to her at the time. Now it just seemed insane. "I made up my mind to do it so that I wouldn't know which was which. So that I couldn't change my mind and undo it."
    "How do you mean?"
    "It was yesterday morning. You were off at baseball practice, and I was feeling sorry for myself because I was home alone with the babies, and I'd been thinking about doing it, and you said you had already done
your
revenge—"
    "Yeah. When I wrote out my game strategy for tomorrow's game. I programmed them to lose."
    "—and so after their breakfast, when they had oatmeal in their hair as always, I gave them each a bath in the kitchen sink, and washed their hair, and then—"
    "Then what? Did you switch them or not?"
    Caroline sighed. "I put them both in the playpen naked. Then I went out in the back yard for a few minutes and looked at the bird feeder. And I went to the bathroom. And I watched a little bit of "Donahue" on TV. And then finally, after I'd ignored them for about half an hour, I went and looked. And I didn't know which was which. They weren't in the same places I'd put them. You know how they crawl around and roll and squirm."
    "So what did you do?"
    Caroline shrugged. "I picked up one and dressed it in yellow. And I picked up the other and dressed it in pink."
    "So they could be the
right
babies—"
    "—or the wrong," Caroline pointed out.
    There was a long silence. "Boy, Caroline," J.P. said at last, "I have to hand it to you. It was fiendishly clever."
    "And it can't be undone," Caroline reminded him in despair. "The guy at the store fouled up the computer as revenge—but you undid it. And you fouled up the baseball team as revenge—but I undid it.
    "But
me
" she said mournfully, "I fouled up the babies as revenge. And no one can undo it."
    "
Wrong,
" said J.P. suddenly, and he stood up. "You've been saved by genius, Caroline!" He headed toward the house and pulled open the sliding door.
    "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"
    "Come on," whispered J.P. from the dark family room. "Let's see if we can do it quietly so that Dad and Lillian don't hear anything."
    "Do
what,
J.P.?" Caroline tiptoed into the house after him. "
Ouch,
" she said, when she stubbed her toe on the leg of the coffee table. "Where are you? I can't see anything!"
    "I'm at the door to your bedroom," J.P.'s voice said through the dark. "I'm about to go in to the babies to conduct a musical audition."
    Caroline caught up with him as he opened the bedroom door. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.
    "Remember?" J.P. told her. "Only one of the babies can whistle. Holly can whistle. Ivy can only go 'Bpheeewwww.'"

    Caroline slept a little later than usual in the morning. For a change, the twins didn't wake her at dawn. Of course, the twins had been up from two to two-thirty in the morning, having their whistling tested. No wonder they were sleeping late.
    Caroline stretched and yawned and listened to the activity in the rest of the