sleepover is pretty boring and sometimes upsetting.
The girls put on nightgowns and wash themselves in the bathroom, then come back and lie in bed with the lights out, whispering. Whispering so much, StingRay doesn’t even get much of a cuddle.
It is very late indeed before their talk dwindles. StingRay, used to going to bed with Honey every night at eight-thirty, sulks herself to sleep long before Lumphy and Plastic deem the house quiet enough to begin moving around.
“Did you see that upside-down spinny thing they did in the circus extravaganza?” asks Plastic, giving a bounce. “I wonder if I could do that.”
“I couldn’t see,” sighs Lumphy. “I was underneath a cape.”
“I saw it,” pipes up Shay’s duck with the glitter makeup. “It’s called a handstand forward roll.”
“Then I would probably need hands for it, huh?” Plastic rolls over to the duck.
“Probably.”
“How do you do?” says Plastic. “I’m a ball.”
“I can tell,” says the duck. “My name is Buttermilk.”
Introductions are made, and Buttermilk explains that all the other toys who talk are in the basement playroom, not the ground-floor bedroom. Shay sleeps with Buttermilk, so the duck almost never gets to talk to anybody unless she navigates the stairs, which is hard to do without legs or sizable flippers. But Shay is kind to her. It is not a bad life, even though Buttermilk is lonely.
“You look excellent with all that makeup on,” says Plastic. “I wish I had some. I could be a glitter ball!”
“I think they’re going to have to wash me,” says the duck, nervously.
“Don’t be scared,” says Lumphy. “I’ve been in a washing machine lots of times, and it’s not bad at all. In fact, it’s—” He breaks off, thinking of Frank and the Dryer.
“What?” asks Buttermilk.
“I have a friend,” says Lumphy. “She’s having repairs. I don’t know if she’ll get better.”
“Who’s having repairs?” asks Plastic.
“The Dryer.”
“Oh dearie,” says Plastic, and falls silent.
“She was all pulled from the wall with wires showing,” Lumphy continues. “Frank is really upset.”
“Isn’t there something you can do?” asks Buttermilk.
Lumphy shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I tried to think of a get-well present, but it’s hard to find a present for a dryer. She doesn’t play games or wear clothes or eat or read. She can’t even talk right now.”
“Oh.” Buttermilk is on Shay’s bed, and she waddles around Shay’s sleeping body to the windowsill. “Look outside,” she says.
Plastic and Lumphy join her.
“You can wish on a star,” says Buttermilk as they gaze at the sky. “That’s what I do when there’s nothing else.”
“That’s what StingRay said you could do at sleepovers!” cries Plastic. “Make wishes on stars!”
“Sometimes my wishes come true,” offers Buttermilk.
“What do you wish for?” Lumphy asks.
“One time I wished for visitors,” says the duck. “And now you’re here.”
“We’re here! We’re here!” Plastic spins herself in a circle.
“I also wished for new books, and Shay got a library card.”
“Ooh!” Plastic likes that idea.
“And I wished for Shay to stop snoring.”
“So let’s wish,” says Plastic. “We’ll pick three different stars and all wish for the Dryer to get better.”
“But she might not, anyway,” Lumphy worries.
“They don’t always come true,” concedes Buttermilk as Shay rolls over in her sleep and begins to snore.
“Yes, but then we know we
tried
to get her better,” says Plastic. “Then at least we
did
something.”
So Lumphy picks a star to the right, and Buttermilk picks a star to the left, and Plastic picks one high up near the moon. And they all wish.
. . . . .
“A sleepover is fun for kids,” announces StingRay to Spark and Sheep when Honey brings them home. “However, it is not fun for buffaloes and stingrays and balls, because all they get to do is
lie on the
The girls put on nightgowns and wash themselves in the bathroom, then come back and lie in bed with the lights out, whispering. Whispering so much, StingRay doesn’t even get much of a cuddle.
It is very late indeed before their talk dwindles. StingRay, used to going to bed with Honey every night at eight-thirty, sulks herself to sleep long before Lumphy and Plastic deem the house quiet enough to begin moving around.
“Did you see that upside-down spinny thing they did in the circus extravaganza?” asks Plastic, giving a bounce. “I wonder if I could do that.”
“I couldn’t see,” sighs Lumphy. “I was underneath a cape.”
“I saw it,” pipes up Shay’s duck with the glitter makeup. “It’s called a handstand forward roll.”
“Then I would probably need hands for it, huh?” Plastic rolls over to the duck.
“Probably.”
“How do you do?” says Plastic. “I’m a ball.”
“I can tell,” says the duck. “My name is Buttermilk.”
Introductions are made, and Buttermilk explains that all the other toys who talk are in the basement playroom, not the ground-floor bedroom. Shay sleeps with Buttermilk, so the duck almost never gets to talk to anybody unless she navigates the stairs, which is hard to do without legs or sizable flippers. But Shay is kind to her. It is not a bad life, even though Buttermilk is lonely.
“You look excellent with all that makeup on,” says Plastic. “I wish I had some. I could be a glitter ball!”
“I think they’re going to have to wash me,” says the duck, nervously.
“Don’t be scared,” says Lumphy. “I’ve been in a washing machine lots of times, and it’s not bad at all. In fact, it’s—” He breaks off, thinking of Frank and the Dryer.
“What?” asks Buttermilk.
“I have a friend,” says Lumphy. “She’s having repairs. I don’t know if she’ll get better.”
“Who’s having repairs?” asks Plastic.
“The Dryer.”
“Oh dearie,” says Plastic, and falls silent.
“She was all pulled from the wall with wires showing,” Lumphy continues. “Frank is really upset.”
“Isn’t there something you can do?” asks Buttermilk.
Lumphy shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I tried to think of a get-well present, but it’s hard to find a present for a dryer. She doesn’t play games or wear clothes or eat or read. She can’t even talk right now.”
“Oh.” Buttermilk is on Shay’s bed, and she waddles around Shay’s sleeping body to the windowsill. “Look outside,” she says.
Plastic and Lumphy join her.
“You can wish on a star,” says Buttermilk as they gaze at the sky. “That’s what I do when there’s nothing else.”
“That’s what StingRay said you could do at sleepovers!” cries Plastic. “Make wishes on stars!”
“Sometimes my wishes come true,” offers Buttermilk.
“What do you wish for?” Lumphy asks.
“One time I wished for visitors,” says the duck. “And now you’re here.”
“We’re here! We’re here!” Plastic spins herself in a circle.
“I also wished for new books, and Shay got a library card.”
“Ooh!” Plastic likes that idea.
“And I wished for Shay to stop snoring.”
“So let’s wish,” says Plastic. “We’ll pick three different stars and all wish for the Dryer to get better.”
“But she might not, anyway,” Lumphy worries.
“They don’t always come true,” concedes Buttermilk as Shay rolls over in her sleep and begins to snore.
“Yes, but then we know we
tried
to get her better,” says Plastic. “Then at least we
did
something.”
So Lumphy picks a star to the right, and Buttermilk picks a star to the left, and Plastic picks one high up near the moon. And they all wish.
. . . . .
“A sleepover is fun for kids,” announces StingRay to Spark and Sheep when Honey brings them home. “However, it is not fun for buffaloes and stingrays and balls, because all they get to do is
lie on the
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