Cookies and cream? - English version

I ran to the door after hearing the bell ring and what I saw intrigued me. It was a girl of about 8 years of age; restless eyes, her long hair pulled back into a bun secured by a hair tie more neatly done than I can or could ever do by myself. I could have felt jealous of it if I spent more time with what I’ve got, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t look pretty. She likely danced ballet and that was as natural as the passing of the hours (or not).
It was summer, so it didn’t make sense to ask her what she was doing out of school. When I rested my hands on the doorframe, I noticed the little one was holding boxes against her body. As soon as she looked up towards me, she tried a big teethed smile.
- Awn, good day to you, miss. What can I do for you?
- How do you do, sir? – a quick change into trying a professional, persuasive tone. – I was wondering if you fancied some cookies on this fine day. – the girl indicated me the boxes, lowering her head and cutting eye contact. It’s not a usual thing to see kids selling cookies around here, but who am I to question it?
- Ah, how do YOU do? Homemade cookies, you mean? – she nodded and something said to me that it would make things easier for her, so I got closer to the edge of the step and crouched, thinking a little to myself. Since I was just about to brew some tea, I said I’d have a look and grabbed a box to peek inside.
- SOOOOOOOOOONNNNN! TEA IS READYYYYY!!! – shouted my mother from the kitchen.
- COMING, MUM. So, your cookies look delish, huh. – she giggled satisfied, tilting her head. Of course, I was being polite, but that was also the truth. I then added that I’d buy them all since she apparently had only three boxes left.
- Oh, really? – the smile I’d seen at the beginning grew wider.
- That’s right. – I checked my wallet and to my relief the amount I had was exact. I didn’t wanna bother her with change. – One for mom and dad, one for my brother and one for tea.
- Thank you, tall sir! – she took the money, walking away, and it was then that I realized I hadn’t introduced myself nor asked her name, so I just laughed it off and waved goodbye. She probably lived nearby and maybe we’d walk into each other in the streets.
- Where the devil have you been, child? Tea’s cooling off! – exclaimed my mother as she approached. I shut the door and showed her the boxes with cookies.
- It’s okay, mum. Here, let’s have some cookies. And this other box is for you.
- Ah, thank you very much... – she paused halfway through, eyeing me sideways. – But what about your father?
I shrugged with a chuckle.
- That’s up to you. You know what? I won’t give Jon the other box anymore...
- Why?
- That fucker stole my socks again.
- PFFFFTTTT come on, now. Cookies it is. – my mother gestured to the air, already leading the way back to the kitchen. – I suggest you hide that thing well. You know how sneaky your dog is and I don’t want him spreading crumbs on my floor. – she cackled.
- That’s a lie! He’s a good boy.
- That’s because you spend so long traveling and don’t see him as much. You are the good boy, not him. – my mom shook her head as she put the kettle back on the stove.
The half-bitten edge of the box and the crumbs underneath my bed the next day only confirmed my theory that dogs are the worst secret keepers in this world...