Packing
Mom helped me pack the night before the big trip. We put all the clothes I was taking on my bed,
and she folded everything neatly and put it inside the bag while I watched.
It was a plain blue rolling duffel, by the way: no logos or artwork.
“What if I can't sleep at night?” I asked. “Take a book with you.
Then if you can't sleep, you can pull out your flashlight, and read for a bit until you get sleepy,” she answered.
I nodded. “What if I have a nightmare?” “Your teachers will be there, sweetie,” she said.
“And Jack. And your friends.” “I can bring Baboo,” I said. That was my favorite stuffed animal when I was little.
A small black bear with a soft black nose. “You don't really sleep with him anymore, do you?” said Mom.
“No, but I keep him in my closet in case I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep,” I said.
I could hide him in my bag. No one would know.” “Then let's do that.” Mom nodded, getting Baboo from inside my closet.
I wish they allowed cell phones,” I said. “I know, me too!” she said.
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