“Leonardo, where is your youngest brother?” Master Splinter asked.
“I don’t know, fath . . . sensei,” Leo said, remembering just in time that they were in the dojo.
“I’ll get him,” Raphael offered. Rather than leaving the room, he turned his head and bellowed, “Mikey!”
“Raphael,” Master Splinter said, the stern sound of his voice drawing the turtle tot’s attention back towards him. “We do not shout.”
“How else is he gonna hear me?” Raph asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Master Splinter was saved from a lengthy explanation on manners by the appearance of his youngest son. “It is time for your daily practice, Michelangelo. Why are you late?”
“’Cause I can’t tell time?” Mikey countered with an ingratiating smile.
“We do not answer questions with questions my son,” Master Splinter chided him. “Your brothers have all