Owen had a fuzzy yellow blanket.
He’d had it since he was a baby.
He loved it with all his heart.
“Fuzzy goes where I go,” berkata Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.
“Fuzzy likes what I like,” berkata Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
jeruk, orange juice, anggur juice, cokelat milk.
Ice cream, kacang butter, applesauce cake.
“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of the Blanket Fairy?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
That night Owen’s parents told Owen to put Fuzzy under his pillow.
In the morning Fuzzy would be gone, but the Blanket Fairy would leave an absolutely wonderful, positively perfect, especially terrific big-boy gift in its place.
Owen stuffed Fuzzy inside his pajama pants and went to sleep.
“No Blanket Fairy,” berkata Owen in the morning.
“No kidding,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“No wonder,” berkata Owen’s father.
“Fuzzy’s dirty,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“Fuzzy’s torn and ratty,” berkata Owen’s father.
“No,” berkata Owen. “Fuzzy is perfect.”
And Fuzzy was.
Fuzzy played Captain Plunger with Owen.
Fuzzy helped Owen become invisible.
And Fuzzy was essential when it came to nail clippings and haircuts and trips to the dentist.
“Can’t be a baby forever,” berkata Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of the vinegar trick?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
When Owen wasn’t looking, his father dipped Owen’s favorit corner of Fuzzy into a jar of vinegar.
Owen sniffed it and smelled it and sniffed it.
He picked a new favorit corner.
Then he rubbed the smelly corner all around his sandbox, buried it in the garden, and dug it up again.
“Good as new,” berkata Owen.
Fuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy anymore.
But Owen didn’t mind.
He carried it.
And wore it.
And dragged it.
He sucked it.
And hugged it.
And twisted it.
“What are we going to do?” asked Owen’s mother.
“School is starting soon,” berkata Owen’s father.
“Can’t bring a blanket to school,” berkata Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of saying no?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
“I have to bring Fuzzy to school,” berkata Owen.
“No,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“No,” berkata Owen’s father.
Owen buried his face in Fuzzy. He started to cry and would not stop.
“Don’t worry,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“It’ll be all right,” berkata Owen’s father.
And then suddenly Owen’s mother said, “I have an idea!”
It was an absolutely wonderful, positively perfect, especially terrific idea.
First she snipped.
And then she sewed.
Then she snipped again and sewed some more.
Snip, snip, snip.
Sew, sew, sew.
“Dry your eyes.”
“Wipe your nose.”
Hooray, hooray, hooray!
Now Owen carries one of his not-so-fuzzy handkerchiefs with him wherever he goes…
And Mrs. Tweezers doesn’t say a thing.
He’d had it since he was a baby.
He loved it with all his heart.
“Fuzzy goes where I go,” berkata Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.
“Fuzzy likes what I like,” berkata Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
jeruk, orange juice, anggur juice, cokelat milk.
Ice cream, kacang butter, applesauce cake.
“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of the Blanket Fairy?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
That night Owen’s parents told Owen to put Fuzzy under his pillow.
In the morning Fuzzy would be gone, but the Blanket Fairy would leave an absolutely wonderful, positively perfect, especially terrific big-boy gift in its place.
Owen stuffed Fuzzy inside his pajama pants and went to sleep.
“No Blanket Fairy,” berkata Owen in the morning.
“No kidding,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“No wonder,” berkata Owen’s father.
“Fuzzy’s dirty,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“Fuzzy’s torn and ratty,” berkata Owen’s father.
“No,” berkata Owen. “Fuzzy is perfect.”
And Fuzzy was.
Fuzzy played Captain Plunger with Owen.
Fuzzy helped Owen become invisible.
And Fuzzy was essential when it came to nail clippings and haircuts and trips to the dentist.
“Can’t be a baby forever,” berkata Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of the vinegar trick?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
When Owen wasn’t looking, his father dipped Owen’s favorit corner of Fuzzy into a jar of vinegar.
Owen sniffed it and smelled it and sniffed it.
He picked a new favorit corner.
Then he rubbed the smelly corner all around his sandbox, buried it in the garden, and dug it up again.
“Good as new,” berkata Owen.
Fuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy anymore.
But Owen didn’t mind.
He carried it.
And wore it.
And dragged it.
He sucked it.
And hugged it.
And twisted it.
“What are we going to do?” asked Owen’s mother.
“School is starting soon,” berkata Owen’s father.
“Can’t bring a blanket to school,” berkata Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t anda heard of saying no?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
“I have to bring Fuzzy to school,” berkata Owen.
“No,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“No,” berkata Owen’s father.
Owen buried his face in Fuzzy. He started to cry and would not stop.
“Don’t worry,” berkata Owen’s mother.
“It’ll be all right,” berkata Owen’s father.
And then suddenly Owen’s mother said, “I have an idea!”
It was an absolutely wonderful, positively perfect, especially terrific idea.
First she snipped.
And then she sewed.
Then she snipped again and sewed some more.
Snip, snip, snip.
Sew, sew, sew.
“Dry your eyes.”
“Wipe your nose.”
Hooray, hooray, hooray!
Now Owen carries one of his not-so-fuzzy handkerchiefs with him wherever he goes…
And Mrs. Tweezers doesn’t say a thing.