Dont Disturb Stepmom [better] [Confirmed ✓]

But today, Carl had a problem. A colossal, four-footed, furry problem.

Carl knew the rule. Everyone knew the rule. The big, glossy whiteboard on the refrigerator door spelled it out in their stepmom’s elegant, looping handwriting:

The hermit crabs were the issue. Two were scuttling under the bed. The third, the big one named Hercules, had executed a daring escape through the open door, across the hall, and was now—Carl’s heart stopped—wedged under the sunroom door.

“I know. I’m so sorry. But Hercules—” he pointed down.

Carl took a breath. Don’t disturb. This means YOU.

“It is an emergency!” Carl said.