Bunny, Boy, and the Special Delivery
Written for Inspire Me Sunday, January 2019.
Find the First Installment of ‘The Adventures of Bunny and Boy’ here.
Also available in audio on the podcast Story Time with Darcie: Episode 5.
by Darcie T. Kelly
Bunny bops along, striking each stair with a collision cushioned by stuffing and blue fuzz, following the bounce of chubby bare feet. The slight delay creates a jaunty rhythm. Bump-bibity-bow. Bump-bibity-bow. Held by a well-loved, some would say thread-bare floppy ear, the ride is part flight and part drag. The last two stairs require great concentration and dedication. A little bottom, not long past diaper days, wiggles and Bunny is drawn up in little fists. With great gusto, Bunny and Boy swing upward and forward, defying gravity as they skip the last step with a giant leap. Upon landing firmly on two feet, a celebratory dance ensues. Hand in hand, Bunny and Boy shimmy and shake, bounce and bop, proud of how big and strong they are becoming. Boy shushes his own whoop of glee with a whisper to Bunny. “Shhh, Mommy and Daddy sleeping.” Bunny snuggles close as if nearness will deepen silence.
The rest of the journey is made on tiptoe, each contact with the tiled floor taken with the care only possible through exaggerated slowness. When they finally reach the kitchen, bunny lands atop the counter with a plop. He can’t see Boy for a moment but hears scratches and scrapes, the need for silence either past or forgotten, and sees the top of a kitchen chair inch closer and closer. Soon, Boy’s head rises over the edge of the counter and Bunny is filled with love and comfort, a feeling that rushes through him every time Boy appears. A sunrise of the heart that draws a contented sigh from Bunny.
With grunts of effort, Boy climbs, joining Bunny on the counter. In need of a rest after their already Herculean achievement, Boy dips a hand in the forbidden cookie jar and shares his illicit treat with Bunny. Crumbs on fur and fingers, a smear of chocolate decorating lips and cheeks, Bunny and Boy are fortified for the next phase of “Operation Breakfast-In-Bed”.
Knees on counter, arms stretched high, boy opens a cupboard and pulls down two bowls with minimal clinks but a few too many clanks. Bunny guards the bowls while Boy climbs down, chair to floor. The pantry door swings open and Bunny gets a glimpse the top of Boy’s head as he retrieves the Cheerios. The yellow box, held high above Boy’s head, appears to float in starts and stops until it is edged onto the counter beside Bunny.
Boy appears in a wave of love, standing on the chair to see over the counter and, with the flop of an ear, Bunny relinquishes each bowl in turn. Soft tingles echo, slow at first then in a rush, as circles of dry oats cascade into each bowl. The overflow spills across the counter, some, brushed by pajama sleeves, tumble over the edge disappearing into the great beyond. The yellow box is forgotten, laying on its side, as Boy jumps to the floor and out of sight like those lost Cheerios.
Across the kitchen, Bunny glimpses Boy reaching up, grabbing the handle of the fridge and pulling. Nothing happens. Boy pulls again, but the door remains firmly in place. Boy squishes his face, grinds his feet into the floor for a better grip, reaches for the handle and throws his entire body weight into opening a door that remains closed. With a look at his best friend, Boy says, “Bunny, milk is trapped.” His voice continues even as he disappears behind the counter, “is OK. Jus’ use water.”
Boy scales the chair with love’s rush and a sigh, climbs on the counter with Bunny crushing oat O’s under knees, creating a grainy dust trail as he crawls to the cup cupboard. Instead of selecting his regular cup with red firetrucks (vroom), Boy grabs a large plastic vessel with a red star, some white letters, and green leaves. Bunny understands. A big cup holds more water. Maybe even enough for a bowl of cereal.
Next stop; the sink. Boy pushes the lever and water screams out the faucet, fast and loud. He puts the cup under the deluge. It splashes and sprays, wetting his face, sleeves, pajama top. Boy wipes his face with wet hands before turning off the faucet. Bunny concentrates hard, sending Boy all his thought power to help turn the water on gently. When the water flows at a soft trickle, it’s worthy of another celebratory dance! But a careful one, Bunny reminds Boy, so they don’t fall off the counter.
It’s been a while since their cookie, and Bunny and Boy are hungry again. Boy fills the cup and drinks, slopping half the water down his front, even getting some up his nose. He then helps Bunny have a slurp, before filling the cup a third and fourth time to pour onto cereal. By the time both bowls are ready, Bunny is dripping, Boy is sopping, and the counter is a veritable lake with floating O’s and used-to-be-O’s dust. Boy squishes a soggy Cheerio between his finger and thumb. “Finger paint!” he delights.
Ten minutes later, counters and cupboard doors delightfully decorated with paintings depicting Bunny in a field of dandelions, it is time for cereal delivery. Boy fumbles trying to carry Bunny and two bowls. After some trial and error, Boy tucks his pajama top into his bottoms, and stuffs Bunny in piggyback-style. Hands free, Boy can still only manage one bowl at a time.
Down from the chair, across the tiled floors of kitchen and hall, up the stairs, without the bumps and jumps this time, Bunny watches where they’ve been. The trip is about as slow as the tiptoeing was but for a very different reason now. The bowl of cereal is filled to the top and every ill managed step causes a slosh of breakfast goodness to escape to the floor. Boy sings softly, Bunny’s second favourite sound after Boy’s laugh; “Have patience, have patience, don’t be in such a hurry …” Bunny tracks their progress, puddle by puddle.
Boy crouches outside Mommy and Daddy’s closed bedroom door, placing the first bowl gently on the floor, and scurries off, quiet as a herd of buffalo, back to the kitchen for the next. This trip is a little faster. “Practice makes perfect.” Boy recites under his breath as they crest the top of the staircase mountain for the second time.
When Boy hesitates outside Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom, Bunny knows why. Boy wants to hold breakfast for both Mommy and Daddy so they can see them at the same time. Bunny has an idea. Boy places him on the ground beside the second bowl, resting his blue fuzzy hands on the edge of the bowl. Perfect.
Boy knocks on the door with his foot and hollers “Good morning!” to wake his sleeping parents. In turn he is greeted with a muffled, “Come in.” Bunny looks at the bowl in his hands, the bowl in Boy’s hands. They need a fifth hand to turn the knob! Boy kicks the door again and responds, “Come out!”
Bunny hears the rustle of bedsheets. Boy presses his not-as-large ear against the door so he too can hear the pad of feet across carpet. As the doorknob turns, Bunny and Boy smile, anticipating Mommy and Daddy’s delight. The door swings open and Boy’s sing-song voice chimes “Happy Daddy’s Birthday!”
“What is all this?” Mommy has her wonders-face. The one she has when she ‘wonders how Boy got yogurt between his toes’ or ‘wonders what Boy was doing to get a grass stain on his forehead.’
“Bunny and me made Bek-fast-In-Bed,” Boy answers, pride beaming from him in every direction. Bunny is very proud of Boy. For being thoughtful and kind. For remembering today is Daddy’s birthday. For letting Mommy and Daddy sleep in. For making an amazing birthday surprise.
Boy carefully takes Daddy one bowl while Mommy picks up Bunny and his bowl. They all snuggle into bed together, even though Bunny and Boy are still rather wet. Mommy wraps them in blankets to stay warm and Daddy thanks Boy with a big ‘squish-you-mostest’ hug.
A feeling of love and comfort overwhelms Bunny. He is so glad this is his family. He settles into a contented sigh, snuggling into the warmth of togetherness when Daddy asks, “Where are the spoons?”