Morning light slipped into the burrow. Today is Pip’s first day at nursery, and Pip’s tummy felt wobbly.
Pip: “I don’t know anyone there. What if I want to come home?”
Bramble padded in and said softly,
Bramble: “You might feel wobbly for a while. That’s allowed. And a grown-up always comes back at the end.”
The mossy path was scattered with acorns. Hazel was waiting on a tree stump.
Hazel: “Hello Pip! There’s a peg with your name on it, and a shelf of blocks.”
Pip: “A peg with my name?”
Hazel: “Yours, all morning. Nobody else’s.”
Under the wide oak, Old Oakley listened first, and then spoke.
Old Oakley: “First you hang up your coat. Then there is playing, then a song, then a snack, and then your grown-up is at the door again.”
Pip: “And if the morning feels too long?”
Old Oakley: “Then find one thing you like and stay near it. Blocks, or a book, or a kind face. One thing is enough to start.”
The nursery was a wide hollow tree, warm and full of voices. Bramble waved from the doorway, and Pip waved back.
It did feel strange at first. Pip stood by the blocks for a long minute.
Pip: “May I build here?”
A small rabbit moved over to make room, and together the two built a tower taller than a teapot.
At the end of the morning, Bramble was at the door, exactly as promised.
Pip: “It was strange at the start. Then it was good.”
Bramble: “Both of those can be true,” said Bramble. “You stayed, and I came back.”
Pip walked home through the golden light, carrying a painting that was mostly green.