Snoopy Presents: To Mom (and Dad), With Love

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Huh?

- -

- -

Whoa.

Come on, Sally. I can't be late. I'm the one who scheduled this practice.

Right behind you, big brother.

Whoops. Heads up!

Good morning, Charlie Brown.

Good morning, Linus, Lucy. Are you ready for today's practice?

Why do we even bother with practice? We never win any games.

That's exactly why. I'm tired of losing.

Look at it this way, Charlie Brown,

we learn more from losing than we do from winning.

That must make me the smartest person in the world.

Aren't you going to say good morning to me, my Sweet Babboo?

I'm not your Sweet Babboo!

What's the plan, Charlie Brown?

New uniforms? New playbook? A new quarterback?

No, a new coach.

Hmm. Maybe you're not such a blockhead after all.

- Good morning, sir. - Good morning, Marcie.

I've been reading up on football.

I'm ready to get out there and kick around the old hogskin.

It's pigskin, Marcie. And everything isn't "old" in football.

Whatever you say, sir.

And don't call me "sir." Today it's "Coach."

All right, listen up.

- Chuck here… - Ah.

…has asked me to help his team get in shape for next season.

Nothing like a good challenge.

Ready to get to work? Good.

I like to start my warm-ups with 100 jumping jacks.

Marcie?

You heard her. Jump!

- One, two, three… -

…four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

- 11, 12, 13… -

- Sorry I'm late, Coach. - Hope you have a good excuse, Pigpen.

I do. The line at the candy store sure was backed up due to Mother's Day tomorrow.

What?

That's tomorrow? I can't believe I almost forgot Mother's Day.

Mother's Day? Mother's Day is special.

Cut the chitchat, Chuck.

Marcie, where were we?

I, uh-- I lost count.

Oh, forget it.

Time for a little demonstration. What you're about to see

is some real down-in-the-dirt, slam-bang, rock-'em-sock-'em football.

Marcie, bring 'em in.

Keep your eyes on the kid with the funny nose.

Look at those moves.

Okay, kid. Enough with the moves.

Let's start with a simple kick.

All right, tee it up!

Uh, nice hit, little guy.

Shake it off. Forget the kick. Let's do the passing play.

I never know what my mother would like. You're clever, Linus. What are you doing?

Well, every day my mom puts these little notes in my lunch sack,

just like this one.

"Dear Son, study hard.

Remember, all you need to find true happiness

is already there within you.

The lunch is just a bonus. Love, Mom."

She gets carried away sometimes.

Now go straight out and cut right.

Now left. Now cut back.

Don't come back. It's a pass, not a return.

This year, I decided to write a special letter back to thank her.

Unfortunately, I still need to figure out what to say.

Writing is not really my strong suit.

"Roses are-- Violets are"--

This isn't the play! Tackle that guy.

Can he even hear me?

What are you guys doing?

I'm making Mom a gift that will be a true artistic masterpiece.

Oh, really? What's that?

If I knew, I'd tell you!

- What are you getting your mom? - She's been really nice lately,

so I upped her gift to a crisp five-dollar bill.

How thoughtful of you.

Cold, hard cash.

You don't have the ball.

I'm writing a sonata for my mom.

I call it, "You're the Best Mom," in F major.

My mom loves hugs,

so I'm making her a coupon book full of them.

Stop! Look behind you.

Not bad for a little guy. Run! Go, go go!

- - Yeah! Yeah! Whoo-hoo!

Not pretty, but it's a touchdown!

- Did you get all… that? -

- Mother's Day. - Happy Mother's Day.

Isn't Mother's Day the best?

- Happy Mother's Day. - I love Mother's Day.

May I have your attention?

Unless you all have something better you'd rather be doing?

Actually, I need to go to the craft store for art supplies.

I need to make more coupons.

I still have to work on the last movement of my sonata.

A card would go nicely with my box of chocolates.

I should be writing my letter.

Sorry, Coach. I should go too.

I'll call you to set up another practice soon.

All right, go ahead and leave.

But don't blame me when you lose next season.

At least someone isn't distracted by stupid Mother's Day.

Huh?

- -

You too? Everyone deserted me. Ugh.

Not everyone, Coach. Sir.

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- -

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Hmm.

Ooh!

- - Huh?

Now, here's the sneaky part.

I turn back and do a fake-o pass to the running back.

But then I keep the ball to myself,

do a few tricky moves to avoid the other side,

and run down the field for a touchdown.

Sir…

- - This is all very interesting, sir,

but maybe we should do this when the other players are here.

No. I refuse to change my plans just because of Mother's Day.

Maybe we could find something else that's fun to do.

Who says I'm not having fun?

Is this the face of a person not having fun?

- Do you want to talk about it, sir? - No.

Sir, I'm really sorry you don't have a mom.

I just don't understand why Mother's Day's such a big deal.

Mother's Day is… dumb!

It's nice that we've opened up this line of communication, sir.

You should just go home, Marcie.

I'm sure you have some things you need to prepare for tomorrow.

Taken care of, sir. I made cupcakes.

I would rather stay here with you.

It's the same every year.

I'm having a good day, and then someone brings up Mother's Day.

And suddenly I'm reminded that I'm the only kid who doesn't have a mom.

It must be difficult, sir.

It really is, Marcie.

Last year, I pretended to be sick

so I didn't have to go to school that week.

I remember. You came down with a case of the yuckies.

If you want, you can spend Mother's Day at my house.

I don't mind sharing my mom.

Your mom's nice, but it's just not the same.

Is there anything I can do to help?

I don't know, Marcie.

Can you make Mother's Day go away and never come back again?