A Story for Moss: story transcript
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A Story for Moss
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Dottie hiccuped. Mama clapped her paws. "What a clever little sound!" Moss watched his baby sister blink at the fuss. Yesterday, Mama had cheered when Dottie rolled onto her side. The day before, she had cheered when Dottie sneezed.
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Moss could roll. Moss could sneeze. He could balance a pinecone on his nose while standing on one foot. But nobody clapped for that anymore. He loved Dottie’s tiny toes. He wished, just once, that somebody would look at his.
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He took a great gulp of air. He puffed out his cheeks. "HIC-a-BLOOP!" he cried, leaping high enough to shake the fern above him. Mama was settling Dottie into a bed of leaves. Dottie was trying to eat one. Neither looked up.
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Moss landed with a thump. "That was my biggest hiccup," he said. Mama turned. "Was it? I missed it." "You miss lots of things," Moss said. He had meant to sound cross. Instead, his voice came out small.
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Mama sat beside him. For a while, they watched Dottie pull a leaf over her nose. "I love her," Moss whispered. "I know," said Mama. Moss rubbed a paw along the ground. "I miss when our bedtime story was just ours."
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Mama drew him close. "I miss that quiet time, too," she said. "Tonight, while Dottie sleeps, you pick the story. I’ll stay right here until the end." Moss leaned against her. "Even if she makes a sound?" "Even then."
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That night, Dottie slept beside them, her little belly rising and falling. Moss chose the story about the bear who tried to carry the moon in a puddle. Mama told every bit, even the part where the puddle spilled into his boots.
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Halfway through, Dottie gave a sleepy hiccup. Mama smiled but kept her eyes on Moss. "What did the bear do next?" he asked. "He took off his boots," said Mama, "and found two very surprised frogs." Moss laughed into her shoulder.
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When the story ended, Dottie hiccuped again. Moss leaned near her and sang, "Hiccup, hop, little puddle frog. Wear two boots and ride a log." Dottie slept on. Mama chuckled softly. "That is a very peculiar lullaby."
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Moss sang it once more, even sillier. Then he tucked himself against Mama, close to Dottie’s warm paw. He loved his sister. He still missed the old, quiet bedtimes. Mama’s paw rested on his, and Moss let both feelings stay.
