Answer:
Every day at 4 p.m., my brother and I send radio messages to Mars to communicate with aliens who live there.
Explanation:
As I unwillingly grab my father's old, knitted cap, my mother stops me.
"Darling, what are you doing?" she asks, her hands hiding behind her back. I look around the room searching for something that has gone wrong.
"What do you mean?" I reply. My mother stares deep into my eyes, trying to help my memory.
"Tsk," she mutters. I hang my head low. Mother is disappointed in me.
"Here," she says, moving her hands into view. In her hands, was another knitted cap. The difference, it was mine.
"Thank you," i say, giving her a big hug. She rolls her eyes, but comtinues to stroke my head.
