Pip Finds a Rabbit in His Apple Sauce

A Rabbit in His Lap

The toy rabbit landed nose-first in Pip’s lunch.

One soft ear dipped into his apple sauce.

“Oh,” said Pip. “You’ve come for a snack.”

He wiped the ear with his clean napkin. The rabbit had blue feet and a yellow bow. One button eye seemed to wink.

Pip hugged it carefully against his soft tummy.

It was his first day at school. All morning, the other children had played together. Pip had built a block tower by himself.

He wanted someone to sit beside him. Someone who might laugh at his funny block hat.

Perhaps the rabbit would do for now.

“Who sent you?” he whispered.

Across the classroom, Bea Mouse searched beneath a chair.

“Bun?” she called. “Where are you?”

Pip looked down at the rabbit.

He should lift it up. He should say something.

Instead, he tucked it beside his cushion. Just for one more hug.

Then he saw white fluff on his jumper.

A tiny hole gaped under the rabbit’s arm. A loose thread had caught on one of Pip’s prickles.

He held very still.

“Has anyone seen my rabbit?” Bea asked.

Pip opened his mouth.

Only a small squeak came out.

The Smallest Brave Voice

Miss Moss rang the little tidy-up bell.

Blocks clicked into boxes. Crayons rolled into cups.

Pip stayed on his cushion. He covered the rabbit’s hole with one paw.

Bea checked the book basket. Then she checked it again.

Pip’s tummy felt tight.

He could leave Bun on the shelf. Bea would find him there.

But she might wonder about the hole. And Pip would still know.

He stood up.

“Bea?”

She turned.

His voice came out smaller than before.

“I have Bun.”

Bea hurried over. Pip held out the rabbit.

“He fell in my lunch. I cleaned his ear.”

Bea touched the damp patch.

“Apple,” she said.

Pip nodded. His prickles brushed the chair behind him.

“I kept him because I wanted a friend.”

He took a breath.

“Then my prickle caught his thread. I’m sorry.”

Bea looked under Bun’s arm. Pip watched her paws.

“That bit was loose,” she said. “But now it’s bigger.”

“Can we ask Miss Moss to mend it?”

Bea nodded.

They carried Bun together, one holding each blue foot.

“He looks like he’s flying,” Bea whispered.

Pip almost smiled.

“Very slowly,” he said. “He’s full of apple sauce.”

Bea gave a tiny snort.

A Place Beside Bea

Miss Moss fetched her sewing tin from a high shelf.

“A little stitch will help,” she said.

She sat where the afternoon sun warmed the floor.

Pip held the yellow bow out of her way. Bea kept Bun’s blue feet still.

The needle dipped. The thread slid softly through.

“Does he need a plaster?” Pip asked.

“Only if he wants one,” said Miss Moss.

Bea thought for a moment.

“He wants his snack.”

“Not mine,” said Pip.

They both giggled.

---

By quiet time, Bun’s arm was neatly closed.

Miss Moss drew the curtains halfway. The classroom turned soft and golden.

Children carried cushions to the reading rug.

Pip picked up his little green one.

“Here,” Bea whispered.

She patted the space beside her.

Pip put his cushion down. Bea laid Bun between them.

“You can hold his foot,” she said.

“Even after the hole?”

“Yes. Just keep him away from lunch.”

Pip smiled and held one blue foot.

Miss Moss began a story about a sleepy duck.

Bea’s eyes grew heavy. Pip tucked his paws close.

Tomorrow, he would ask her to build a tower.

For now, he listened to the soft, slow words.

Beside him, Bea breathed quietly.

Between them, Bun rested, warm and whole.