“Thank you, Sophie,” Mrs. Brisbane said quickly. “Who else has an idea?”
I don’t think Stop-Talking-Sophie was finished talking. To squeak the truth, she never is.
She can talk more than any human I know!
“I like building snowmen,” Holly said. Then she yawned a HUGE-HUGE-HUGE yawn.
My other friends came up with so many interesting things to do, like building snow forts and making ice cream out of snow.
I’ve never done any of those things because hamsters don’t like the cold, despite our fur coats! Still, I enjoy watching the snow from the warmth of my cage indoors.
Then Mrs. Brisbane said, “And, of course, one of your songs is about the idea that no two snowflakes are exactly alike. I like the words to the song Ms. Lark gave us today. I think it’s true for this class.”
The words? What words? I wanted to get my paws on that song and find out what it said. After all, if I was going to be in the show with my friends, I needed to know my part!
Soon, all of my friends hurried off to lunch—except for one.
Holly was still at her desk, yawning.
Mrs. Brisbane noticed, too. “Holly, are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine,” Holly answered in a weak voice.
Mrs. Brisbane walked over to her table. “You seem tired today. Maybe you should go see the school nurse. Or I could call your mother to pick you up, if you’re sick.”
Holly yawned. “No, I’m fine,” she said again.
Then Mrs. Brisbane did a strange thing. She put her hand on Holly’s forehead. I tell you, humans never stop surprising me with their odd behavior!
“Did you bring your lunch?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
Holly nodded.
“You can eat in here, if you’d like. It’s nice and quiet. We could eat together,” Mrs. Brisbane said.
Mrs. Brisbane brought her lunch bag over to Holly’s table and they took out all kinds of yummy-looking food, like sandwiches and hamster-iffic carrot sticks. They didn’t talk for a while as they ate. Then Mrs. Brisbane asked, “Are you all ready for the holidays?”
“Not really,” Holly said. “I still have a lot of presents to make.”
“It’s nice to make presents,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “But it’s a lot of work.”
“You can squeak that again,” I said. “Holly’s working so hard, she’s not even sleeping. It might make her sick!”
I know that all Mrs. Brisbane could hear was SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK, but I wished she could understand me.
“Who are you making presents for?” Mrs. Brisbane asked.
“Everyone in the class,” Holly said. “Oh, and I forgot! I have to make something for Ms. Lark!”
Mrs. Brisbane looked puzzled. “We don’t have a gift exchange in this class.”
“I know,” Holly said. “But I figured it out. I’m going to deliver them outside of class.”
Mrs. Brisbane chewed a bite of her sandwich and then said, “That’s nice of you, but why do you want to do this?”
“I love to make things! And I love to give gifts to show how much I like everybody,” Holly said. “Then they’ll like me back.”
Then Mrs. Brisbane did something I don’t see her do very often. She frowned.
“Holly, your classmates like you for who you are,” she said. “You don’t need to give people presents to make them like you. You know that, don’t you?”
I was so glad to hear my teacher squeak up.
“That’s right!” I agreed.
Holly thought for a moment. “I guess they do.”
“It’s important to get enough sleep, Holly,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “You don’t want to get sick for the holidays.”
It’s amazing! Even if she didn’t understand what I said, Mrs. Brisbane seemed to know what I was thinking. I guess that’s what makes her such a great teacher.
Holly yawned again.
Mrs. Brisbane and Holly chatted a little more while they finished lunch. Then my teacher said, “Why don’t you put your head on your table and rest until the others come back?”
“Couldn’t I work on making my presents instead?” Holly asked. “I brought some of my projects with me.”
Mrs. Brisbane shook her head. “No, Holly. Please drop the idea of making presents for everyone. Put your head down and rest.”
Holly agreed, and soon she was fast asleep.
Of course, Holly woke up when our friends came back into the class. (Maybe she didn’t wake up all the way, though.)
Later in the day, Mrs. Brisbane read to us from a wonderful book about a girl named Alice falling down a rabbit hole (which sounds terrifying to a small creature like me). And just like our program, it took place in a wonderland, but not the kind where it snows.
It was hard to follow the story, though, because while Mrs. Brisbane was reading, Holly kept yawning and they kept getting longer and longer.
Yawn. Yawn. Yawwwwn. Yawwwwwwwn.
Then I noticed something funny. Once Holly started yawning, all the other humans in the room began to yawn.
Even I started to yawn, and I’m not a human.
I finally crawled into my sleeping hut for a nap. I was only sorry that Holly couldn’t fit in there, too!
“Og, do you remember the time you and I got snowed in?” I asked my neighbor that night when the school was empty.
“BOING-BOING!” Og replied.
“It doesn’t seem that long ago,” I said. “In fact, it was earlier this year. But so much has happened since then. And now winter is back!”
“BOING?” Og sounded surprised.
“I wonder if it will snow again. I wonder what a wonderland looks like. And I wonder what that snowflake song is like,” I squeaked.
Og splashed around in his water a little, but he didn’t answer my questions.
It was beginning to get dark in Room 26, but my hamster eyes see well in the dark. And as I looked across the room, I noticed a sheet of white paper under Be-Careful-Kelsey’s table.
“I wonder . . . ,” I squeaked. “Og, do you think that’s a copy of the snowflake song?”
Og splashed a little louder.
I was thinking about opening the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and trying to read the paper when I heard a familiar RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE coming down the hall outside the classroom.
The first time I’d heard that rattling, I’d thought a ghost was coming. But now I knew that it was only Aldo coming in to clean. He isn’t anything like a ghost, thank goodness.
Suddenly, the door swung open and bright light filled the room as Aldo appeared, pushing his cleaning cart.
“Never fear . . . ’cause Aldo’s here,” his voice boomed out.
“Greetings, Aldo!” I squeaked at the top of my tiny lungs.
“Hello, Humphrey! Hello, Og! How are my favorite classroom pets?” he said.
I was glad we were his favorites. George, the frog with the deep voice in Miss Loomis’s class, isn’t one bit friendly. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand Og, but I don’t understand the hermit crabs in Miss Becker’s room at all.
I’ve liked Aldo since my first night in Room 26. It was fun to watch him, especially when he showed me his trick of balancing a broom on his fingertip.
Aldo came over to our table and bent down so his face was level with my cage and Og’s tank. I love to see Aldo up close because he has a big furry black mustache that wiggles when he talks. Sometimes I wonder if he stores extra food in there, the way I do in my cheek pouch.
“Say, have you heard about this Winter Wonderland show?” he asked. “It’s going to snow in the gym . . . and that’s no joke! Get it? That snow joke.”
When he laughed, his mustache shook.
It made me co
ld to think of snow outside. But the thought of snow inside the school made my teeth chatter.
“Here’s a snow joke for you,” Aldo said. “How do snowmen travel around?”
I had no idea, so I was happy when Aldo said, “By icicle! Get it? An icicle, like a bicycle.”
“That’s funny,” I squeaked.
“Here’s another one,” Aldo continued. “What do you call a snowman in the summer? A puddle!”
Aldo’s mustache shook even harder as he laughed at this joke—along with me.
Then Aldo went to work cleaning the classroom. He dusted the tables and was careful not to disturb anything on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. Aldo admires Mrs. Brisbane (so do I). He’s even going to school to learn to be a teacher like her someday.
Next, Aldo got out his broom and started sweeping.
I climbed up to the top of my tree branch so I could have a better look.
He had collected quite a pile of dust and paper trimmings by the time he reached the piece of paper near Kelsey’s table.
He bent down and picked it up. “What’s this?” He studied the paper. “Oh, it’s a song. Hey, I’ll bet this is the song for the winter show.”
“What’s it say?” I squeaked loudly.
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og twanged excitedly.
Aldo started to whistle. I’m not quite sure how he did that, because I couldn’t see his mouth under that big floppy mustache.
“I like it,” he said. “That’s a nice idea.”
“PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE bring it over here!” I squeaked.
I guess Aldo didn’t understand, because he put the paper back on Kelsey’s table.
After he finished his work and the tables were in neat rows again, he pulled a chair up next to my cage and took out his dinner. He always eats his dinner with Og and me.
“Richie said his class is going to build a snowman in the gym,” Aldo told us.
Richie is Aldo’s nephew. He was in Room 26 with me last year.
Aldo chuckled. “Now that’s something, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is!” I squeaked. It would have to be COLD-COLD-COLD in that gym if they didn’t want the snowman to melt. I shivered a little.
“I like that snowflake song, though.” Aldo pushed a crunchy piece of lettuce between the bars of my cage.
“Sing it to us, Aldo,” I said.
He didn’t sing but he hummed a little. Then he sang, “Each one is special, just like me and you.”
Aldo chuckled again. “I guess you two snowflakes aren’t alike at all,” he said. “And you’re both special, all right.”
After he finished his meal, Aldo threw a few Froggy Food Sticks into Og’s tank. My friend took a deep dive in the water to catch them.
Before I knew it, Aldo had rolled his cart out into the hallway and turned off the lights.
“Night, night,” he said before closing the door.
The room was dark and quiet. I waited until I saw Aldo’s car leave the parking lot a little later. Then I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and scrambled over to Og’s tank.
“Did you hear that, Og?” I asked. “He called us snowflakes!”
“BOING-BOING!” he said.
“And he said we’re special. I guess that’s what the song says,” I explained.
I glanced at Kelsey’s table and saw the paper lying there. “I wish I could go over there and read it,” I said.
Since I’ve been the classroom pet in Room 26, I’ve learned to read. I can even write in the little notebook hidden behind my mirror.
And I’ve learned to open my lock-that-doesn’t-lock, get out of my cage and explore Room 26 at night.
But there was no way that I could get from my cage to Kelsey’s tabletop, because I can’t shimmy up such a tall, smooth leg. And I couldn’t leap from her chair to the table because her chair was pushed all the way in.
“I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” I squeaked to my neighbor. It was suddenly getting chilly in Room 26. I looked forward to burrowing down in my nice warm bedding.
“BOING-BOING,” Og answered.
It sounded as if he agreed with me, so I said good night and went back to the comfort of my cage.
Hamsters are often wide awake at night, so I had plenty of time to think.
If the students in Room 26 were snowflakes, certainly no two were alike. Slow-Down-Simon was always in a rush, while Hurry-Up-Harry was often late. Do-It-Now-Daniel put things off, while Helpful-Holly did everything right away. One Paul was tall and the other Paul was short. Oh, and Stop-Talking-Sophie was the complete opposite of quiet Speak-Up-Sayeh from last year’s class.
Even the classroom pets, Og and I, were as different as night and day.
I have beautiful golden fur. He is green and has no fur at all.
He likes water and I should NEVER-NEVER-NEVER get wet.
I say “SQUEAK” and he says “BOING!”
And those are only a few of our differences.
I guess I wasn’t wide awake after all because I drifted off to sleep and dreamed about snowflakes and jingle bells and prancing horses.
HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: Could there possibly be any two snowflakes as different as Og and me?
3
Jingle Jangle
I had to wait two days before Ms. Lark came back again. Then, before she arrived, the morning seemed unsqueakably long.
First, we had to do math problems. One was about a train going east and a train going west and as far as I could figure out, those two trains were going in circles!
Then, there was the vocabulary test. I hid in my sleeping hut with my notebook and took the test with the rest of the class. I’m sorry to say I missed three words. First was “drizzle.” I thought it only had one z. I should have known it had two. After all, Mrs. Brisbane once gave us a made-up word, “furzizzle,” and that had two zs.
Next was “frozen.” I thought it had two zs. I also missed “icicle.” I got carried away and wrote “icicicicle.” (I guess Mrs. Brisbane was using our spelling to get us in the mood for the Winter Wonderland show.)
“Og, do you think Ms. Lark is really coming back today?” I squeaked to my neighbor when we were alone in the room during recess.
Og splashed a little but he didn’t answer. I guess he didn’t know, either.
But once my classmates were back and in their chairs, the door swung open and Ms. Lark came in. She gave a nervous glance in the direction of my cage, then moved to the front of the classroom. She was carrying a piano keyboard with her. It was just the keyboard part—not the whole piano.
“Did you have a chance to look at the snowflake song last night?” she asked, placing the keyboard on the desk.
My friends all nodded, even Forgetful-Phoebe, who sometimes doesn’t remember her homework.
“Great,” Ms. Lark continued. “Let’s warm up by singing a chorus of ‘Jingle Bells.’ Then I’ll teach you the new song.”
She flipped a switch and started playing the keyboard. It may have been small, but it was LOUD-LOUD-LOUD.
My classmates began to sing and I squeaked along.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh—ay!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh!
It’s a happy song and I loved it so much, I kept on going.
Squeak-squeak squeak, squeak-squeak squeak.
Squeak . . .
Just then, I noticed that the rest of the class had stopped singing. My friends sitting near my cage giggled.
I stopped singing.
Ms. Lark looked in my direction and frowned.
But then she forced a smile (it looked forced to me) and told my friends what a good job they’d done.
Next, we sang the verse of the song. I didn’t know that part, so I listened.
Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh,
O’er the fields we go, laughing all the way.
Bells on bobtail ring, making spirits bright,
What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight! Oh . . .
When they went back to singing the “jingle bells” part, I joined in again. But this time, I remembered to stop when my friends did.
Ms. Lark explained what some of the words meant, which was quite surprising.
I’d thought that the horse’s name was Bob and that he had bells on his tail. That’s why the song said “Bells on Bob’s tail ring.” But I was WRONG-WRONG-WRONG! The horse’s tail was cut short so it wouldn’t get caught in the reins, and that was called a bobtail. OUCH!
(I have a small tail myself, but I’m not sure how I feel about putting bells on it.)
“I want you to practice the song on your piano when you get home so we can rehearse with you playing soon,” she told Daniel.
“Okay,” he said.
“You will remember, won’t you?” Mrs. Brisbane asked. “Tonight.”
Mrs. Brisbane often had to remind Daniel not to put things off.
Then Ms. Lark moved on to the new song about the snowflakes.
I could tell my friends were as excited as I was to hear a brand-new song. They leaned forward in their chairs to listen.
I scrambled up to the tippy-top of my cage so I could watch Ms. Lark sing and play. She had a lovely voice. And I liked the words of the song, too.
No two snowflakes are the same,
Though they’re lacy white.
No two snowflakes are alike,
Almost . . . but not quite.
Each one is special,
That is true.
Each one is special,
Just like me and you.
Snowflakes floating through the air
Make a lovely sight.
No two snowflakes are alike,
Almost . . . but not quite.
Winter According to Humphrey (9781101591222) Page 2