Small-Paul started scribbling on a piece of paper.
The bell for recess rang and guess what?
Everyone in the class decided to stay inside to rebuild the house.
Everyone wanted to help Holly.
Mrs. Brisbane had them gather around the table.
Small-Paul examined the broken pieces. “Luckily, when it collapsed, some of the bigger pieces didn’t break,” he explained. “So we should be able to glue them back together. Then we can put the candy pieces on again.”
“But we don’t have that special icing,” Rosie said.
“Why don’t we use real glue?” Tall-Paul suggested. “We’re not going to eat it anyway.”
Small-Paul nodded. “And real glue might hold it together better.”
They went to work, quickly.
The two Pauls and Mrs. Brisbane got the walls back up again and glued them.
Kelsey and Phoebe put on the cookie roof.
Thomas and Joey rebuilt the licorice fence.
Rosie pieced the gingerbread man back together again.
Then the rest of my friends helped glue the candy back on.
Everybody helped. I wished I could help, too. At least I could encourage my friends. “Good job!” I shouted.
“BOING-BOING!” Og twanged.
They were almost finished when the door swung open and Mrs. Wright walked in. She was bundled up in a thick jacket and had a scarf wrapped around her neck.
But I could still see her whistle hanging from her neck.
“Mrs. Brisbane, what are your students doing inside? You know they’re supposed to go out for recess,” she said. “The rules say—”
Mrs. Brisbane is usually polite, but this time she interrupted Mrs. Wright.
“I know about the rules,” she said. “But we had an emergency in the class.”
She explained about the gingerbread house, the accident, and how upset Holly was.
“I think we can break the rules just this once so my students can help a friend who’s in pain, don’t you?” Mrs. Brisbane smiled.
I could see that Mrs. Wright was surprised, but then she shocked me.
“I think so,” she said. She looked at her watch. “You’d better get back to work. Recess will be over soon.”
And she left without blowing her whistle even once.
By the time the bell rang, the house was put back together again.
To squeak the truth, it didn’t look quite the same. Even from my cage, I could see that it was a little crooked.
But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the whole class had worked together to help Holly.
A few minutes after my classmates were back in their seats, the door opened and Holly came in. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying anymore.
“Welcome back,” Mrs. Brisbane said with a smile. “We have a little surprise for you.” She pointed at the gingerbread house.
Holly’s eyes were wide as she hurried to the table. “But who? I mean what? I mean . . .”
I don’t think Holly knew what she meant.
“All your classmates wanted to help you, Holly. So during recess, they put the house back together,” Mrs. Brisbane explained.
Holly stared down at the little house. I was afraid she was going to cry again.
But instead, she smiled!
“You did this . . . to help me?” she said, turning to the class.
“Sure, Holly,” Kelsey said. “You’re always helping us.”
All my friends were smiling and nodding, including me.
“You gave your friends a gift,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “And they gave you a gift back.”
“Thank you,” Holly said.
I had a warm feeling from the ends of my whiskers to the tip of my tail.
HUMPHREY’S WINTER WONDERINGS: I wonder if a gingerbread man puts a cookie sheet on his bed.
14
The Perfect Present
On Thursday afternoon, things suddenly changed. “Oh, my gosh—look!” Thomas shouted. “It’s snowing!”
I turned and looked out the window behind me. Big, thick snowflakes were tumbling down from the sky.
My friends ooh-ed and ahh-ed and Mrs. Brisbane told them they could come to the window and look out.
“Do you think any two of them are the same?” Phoebe wondered aloud.
“Our experiment!” Small-Paul said. “You said if it snowed we could study the snowflakes.”
“That’s right!” Mrs. Brisbane said.
Then, so many things happened. Mrs. Brisbane sent Paul F. (that’s Small-Paul) down to the office to ask someone in the principal’s office to get something from the freezer. She and my classmates got their coats on and then Mrs. Brisbane took a magnifying glass out of her desk drawer.
Small-Paul came back with a package of black paper that Mrs. Brisbane had frozen. (Humans are strange, you know.)
Mrs. Brisbane handed Paul his coat and then they all raced outside.
Suddenly, it was QUIET-QUIET-QUIET in Room 26.
“Og?” I asked. “Do you know what happened?”
My froggy friend didn’t answer. He only splashed around in the water.
Then I saw them out my window. They were catching snowflakes on pieces of black paper, then bending over them with the magnifying glass.
“They’re looking at snowflakes,” I told Og. “I hope they’ll tell us about it,” I said.
“BOING-BOING,” Og replied.
And guess what? When they were back in the classroom, they did!
“The paper had to be frozen ahead of time so the snowflakes wouldn’t melt right away,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “So what did you see?”
“There were about a million broken snowflakes,” Thomas T. True answered.
Thomas does like to exaggerate.
“A lot of them were broken,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “But how many of you saw snowflakes with six sides?”
All my friends’ hands were raised.
“And they were all different,” Sophie said. “No two were alike. So maybe Paul F. was wrong about that.”
“You’d have to look at trillions of snowflakes to know,” Paul replied.
“They were beautiful,” Rolling-Rosie said.
Mrs. Brisbane let my friends take time to draw the types of snowflakes they’d seen.
While they worked, she called Sophie up to her desk and talked to her so softly, I couldn’t hear a word they said.
At first, I thought Sophie was in trouble for talking too much, again. She loves to talk!
But when I saw her smile, I knew she couldn’t be in trouble.
So what was Mrs. Brisbane telling her?
Sophie nodded and then nodded again.
Mrs. Brisbane took a piece of paper out of her drawer and handed it to her.
I was only sorry Mrs. Brisbane forgot to tell me what was going on. After all, I am the classroom pet!
It had been an exciting day in Room 26! I was staring out the window, trying to get a good look at the falling snowflakes, but I guess I dozed off. I woke with a start when I heard Mrs. Brisbane say, “So, class, tomorrow is the big day. We’ll rehearse the songs in the classroom before the show. After Winter Wonderland is over, you’ll go home with your families for the winter holidays.”
Tomorrow! I couldn’t believe my tiny ears.
I wish I had a tiny calendar hidden behind my mirror, along with my notebook.
“Don’t forget to practice tonight, Daniel,” Mrs. Brisbane said as my friends left for the day. “You too, Sophie.”
I knew Daniel would be playing “Jingle Bells,” but I had no idea what Sophie would be practicing.
And I still had no idea where I would be sp
ending the winter break.
Everybody in the class would be celebrating, but what about Og and me? Would we have anything to celebrate?
Og! I suddenly realized that I hadn’t been thinking enough about my next-door neighbor. I wanted to give him a gift . . . but so far, I hadn’t done anything about it.
It’s not easy to think of a gift for Og.
For one thing, he’s always splashing around in water, so he’d ruin just about anything.
For another thing, he’s always watching me. He never closes his eyes (that I’ve seen). So if I wanted to make him something, he’d see me and it wouldn’t be a surprise.
Besides, what do frogs like except flies and crickets and other icky things to eat?
Thinking about what Og liked to eat gave me an idea.
If I could only think of a way to distract him.
I pulled out my notebook and began to make a Plan.
After school, while it was still light out, I decided to put my Plan to work.
I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and scurried over to Og’s cage.
“Og, there’s something I need to do, but I’m worried that Aldo will come in and find me,” I said. “Could you watch the clock for me and warn me if it’s time for him to clean?”
I don’t know if Og can read or write. But in the past, he has often warned me about things, particularly when I’ve lost track of time. So he must know something about clocks.
“BOING!” Og hopped up onto the land part of his tank and faced the front of the room where the big clock is located.
Hooray—he understood!
I darted behind his tank and raced over to the corner where our food is stored.
While I looked longingly at my beloved Nutri-Nibbles, Mighty Mealworms, Veggie Dots and Hamster Chew-Chews, I passed right by. I glanced at the can of crickets—EWWW!—then headed for the jar of Froggy Food Sticks.
The small sticks were perfect for what I wanted to do. But how was a small hamster going to get them out of a plastic container with a lid?
Luckily, when I was making my Plan, I thought about this.
I took a run at the container and managed to knock it on its side. (I almost got knocked on my side, too!)
I went up to the plastic cap and tapped it. Just as I feared, it was fastened tightly.
However, I’m VERY-VERY-VERY strong for a VERY-VERY-VERY small creature.
So I stood on my back legs and put both front paws against the lid and pulled.
The edge only bent back a little, so I tried again, pulling even harder. “Ooof!”
But it still didn’t come off.
I don’t give up easily, so I looked around. Lying on our table, not too far from my cage, was a pencil. I hurried over and rolled the pencil up to the Froggy Food Sticks.
“Keep your eyes on that clock!” I told Og.
“BOING-BOING!” he replied.
I held the pencil with both of my front paws, put the pointed tip under the edge of the lid and gave it one big push. All at once, the lid popped off and a pile of Froggy Food Sticks tumbled toward me.
Ewww! My whiskers wilted as the sticks gave off a smell like stinky fish. But this was a gift for Og, after all. He loves stinky stuff.
“Everything all right, Oggy?” I squeaked.
“BOING!” he said.
It would take too long to carry the sticks to the side of Og’s tank. I had a better idea. I stood up on two feet and pushed the pile with my front paws, moving them in the direction of his tank.
Then I did it again and again, until I had a nice pile of Froggy Food Sticks in place. Luckily, Og was still looking toward the clock.
“I won’t be long now,” I told him.
“BOING-BOING,” Og twanged.
Since I had it all planned out, it didn’t take long for me to use my nose and paws to arrange the sticks in the shape of a Christmas tree.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the smell of stinky fish off my paws, but after all, you shouldn’t be selfish if you’re giving a gift.
Then I scurried back to my cage and tore out a page of my notebook where I’d made a little card for Og earlier in the afternoon.
I had a little trouble with the card. I started out writing “Happy Chanukah,” but I didn’t know how to spell “Chanukah,” so all I’d written was “Happy.”
Then I’d tried to write “Merry Christmas,” but I didn’t know how to spell “Christmas,” so all I’d written was “Merry.”
I’d been in a BIG-BIG-BIG hurry at that point, so I’d written, “Frog.”
That’s all I had time to write. It wasn’t much of a holiday greeting, but it would have to do.
“Og, could you come over to my side of the tank now? I have something for you,” I said.
Then I scampered back to my cage.
It took Og a while to move from one side of the tank to the other. I think he liked looking at the clock.
But when he finally saw the food stick tree and the note, he said, “BOING!”
“It’s a present from me, Og. It’s a Christmas tree with a note that says, ‘Happy Merry Frog.’ Oops, I forgot to sign my name,” I explained. “I hope you like it.”
Og stared and stared at the tree and the note with those bulging eyes of his.
I was afraid he had no idea what I was talking about.
Then all of a sudden, he started hopping up and down, up and down, crying, “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!”
He liked it!
Og kept hopping and BOING-ing.
He was a very happy and merry frog.
I was feeling happy and merry myself.
I was resting comfortably in my cage when I heard Aldo approaching.
RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE! I think the wheels of his cart needed oiling.
The door opened and there he was!
“Hello, my friends!” Aldo shouted as he came into Room 26. “Season’s greetings!”
“Hello, Aldo!” I squeaked.
Og splashed around in his tank.
“How do you like the snow?” Aldo said. “Hey, what do snowmen wear on their heads?”
I thought and thought, but I had no answer.
“Snow caps!” Aldo replied. And he laughed and laughed and laughed.
I laughed, too.
Aldo went right to work, cleaning our classroom.
“Say, fellows, I was happy to find out that they decided there would be no glitter at the show tomorrow,” he said. “You’ve got glitter once, you’ve got it forever. I’ve swept up pieces of glitter that have been hiding for years.”
“Then I’m glad, too, Aldo!” I said. When Mrs. Wright had first said our class couldn’t use glitter, I was upset with her. But I decided that this time, Mrs. Wright was right.
“After all, I want to get home after the show and be with Mama Maria,” he said. “I’ve got to start thinking about being a dad.”
I was sure that Aldo will be a great dad.
He’s already a great cleaner, a great student, and an unsqueakably great friend.
Aldo dusted and swept all the tables in the room until he finally came to our table.
“What’s this?” he asked as he looked down at the Froggy Food Sticks tree. “It’s a little Christmas tree!”
Then he laughed until his mustache wobbled. “And a little card. ‘Happy Merry Frog,’” he read. “I guess somebody in this class likes you, Og. What am I saying? Everybody likes you and your friend Humphrey.”
“BOING-BOING!” Og agreed.
“But you haven’t gotten to enjoy your present yet,” Aldo said. “Here . . . open wide.” He scooped up a handful of the Froggy Food Sticks and threw them into Og’s tank.
“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING
-BOING!” Og said as he opened his huge mouth wide to catch them all.
Aldo laughed some more as he watched my friend. “I think somebody gave you the best present in the world,” he said. “Right, Og?”
Og splashed and splashed until drops of water spilled over the top of the tank.
Aldo was still laughing as he sat down to eat his dinner. “Tomorrow’s the show,” he said. “So if I don’t see you after that, I wish you both the happiest holidays ever. Whatever you celebrate, may you celebrate it well.”
“I wish that for you, too, Aldo!” I squeaked with great excitement. “And for Maria and the baby. And for everybody!”
Aldo chuckled. “Humphrey, there’s nobody like you.”
I certainly hope not! Maybe there are two snowflakes alike somewhere, but there are no two humans who are alike.
And I’m pretty sure no two hamsters are alike, either!
Nights are long in the winter, and if you’re a wide-awake hamster, they seem to go on forever. On Thursday night after Aldo left, I spun on my wheel, climbed my tree branch, made a trip to my poo corner, rummaged around for food . . . and it was still early.
I sat in my cage, looking out at the classroom lit by the streetlamp outside the window.
“Og,” I squeaked. “Isn’t Holly’s gingerbread house the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen?”
Og splashed around, but he didn’t seem too interested. I guess if the house had been made of crickets or something stinky, he would have liked it more.
“Have you noticed that it’s just my size?” I asked.
Og was quiet, so I guess he hadn’t noticed.
I continued. “Holly will probably take it home for the holidays. I was just thinking that I might go over and have a peek at it while I have a chance.”
“BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og sounded worried.
“Oh, I’ll be careful,” I told him as I jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and scurried out of my cage.
I slid down our table leg and hurried over to the bigger table where the gingerbread house sat. The table is next to a reading area where Mrs. Brisbane keeps a tall wire rack full of books. If my friends have free time, they can pick out a book to read or check it out and take it home.
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