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,” sagte Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.
“Fuzzy likes what I like,” sagte Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Orange juice, traube juice, Schokolade milk.
Ice cream, erdnuss butter, applesauce cake.
“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t Du 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...
continue reading...