Switcharound by Lois Lowry Page A

house. Poochie was singing. He had a terrible voice: off-key and loud. But it was a happy voice, at least; he was singing "Take me OOOUUUTT to the baaaalll game!"
    She heard her father call, "J.P.? I'm going down to the store to get Caroline's cap and shirt; you want to come? You could check the computer one more time!"
    She heard J.P. respond and leave with Herbie.
    She could hear Lillian in the kitchen, talking to Poochie.
    Finally she heard the babies stir and wake. In the pink crib, the pink-gowned baby wiggled and peered, grinning, between the bars at Caroline.
    "Hi, Holly," Caroline said. "Give a little whistle?"
    Holly puckered up and whistled shrilly.
    "Good girl," Caroline told her.
    "Ivy?" she asked and looked into the yellow crib. Ivy was awake, too, but pulling at her ear again and whimpering.
    Caroline reached into the yellow crib and patted Ivy fondly. "You're going to the doctor this morning," she told the baby. "He'll fix your ear up.
    "Hey," she added, still patting the baby, "how about a little whistle?"
    Ivy tried. But she still could manage only "Bpheeewwww."
    Caroline got up, put her bathrobe on, and picked up the babies. She was so expert now at baby care that she could carry both of them at the same time, one balanced on each hip.
    "Morning, Lillian," she said when she got to the kitchen. "I haven't changed them yet. But I will in a minute."
    She put the babies in the playpen and went back to the bedroom for two dry diapers. In the bedroom, she stood still for a moment and looked at the two cribs, empty now. According to the whistling test, the babies had not actually been switched at all. Ivy was still Ivy. And Holly was still Holly. Ivy would get her penicillin shot and would be okay.
    But what if—
    Just suppose that—
    Caroline had to be absolutely certain. She loved the babies too much to take a chance.
    "Lillian," she said, when she got back to the kitchen. "I have a confession to make."
    Lillian looked at her quizzically. She was fixing the babies' orange juice.
    Caroline took a deep breath. "Yesterday morning," she said, "I gave the babies each a bath in the sink and then I put them into the playpen together—"
    Lillian handed a bottle to each baby. She took one of the diapers and began changing Holly. Caroline leaned over and started changing Ivy.
    "—and, ah, when I put them in the playpen together, they didn't have any clothes on yet. I mean, I hadn't yet dressed them after their bath," Caroline went on apprehensively.
    Lillian started to laugh. She fastened Holly's diaper, patted her padded behind, and stood up. "So they got mixed up?" she asked.
    "Yes," Caroline whispered, terrified. "And, Lillian, I'm almost positive that they're straightened out. I can't show you while they have their bottles in their mouths. But Holly can whistle, and Ivy can't."
    Holly, sucking on her orange juice, heard the word
whistle.
She let go of her bottle, puckered up, and whistled some orange juice into the air.
    Lillian chuckled, wiped Holly's chin, and said, "I do it all the time, Caroline. Don't worry about it."
    Caroline stared at her in astonishment. "You mix them up?"
    Lillian nodded. "Sure. It's inevitable. The pink and yellow clothes are handy. But let's face it—you can't keep them dressed every second. There's bound to be a mix-up now and then."
    "But how—?"
    "Oh, there are several ways to tell them apart," Lillian explained. "Ivy has a tiny mole on the back of her right shoulder. But that's a nuisance, because you have to take her shirt off to find it. It's a little easier to check the backs of their heads. Their hair grows in different directions. Here, I'll show you on Ivy—she's finished her juice."
    She picked up the twin in the yellow nightgown and gently smoothed the fine dark hair on the back of her head. "See how it grows around counterclockwise in a circle? This
is
Ivy, by the way, in case you were still worried, Caroline. Holly's hair grows the opposite