Bami hopped to the kitchen table. He slid a carrot onto his plate and pushed broccoli, a red pepper, and a purple onion far away.
He shook his head hard and twitched his nose. When he turned around, the back door was open. A warm breeze carried the smell of damp soil and something sweet.
Bami followed the scent into the garden. A round orange tomato winked at him.
"I grew in a warm patch of sun," said the tomato. "Try me and you'll taste sunshine." Bami took a small bite. Gold sparkles floated up around his ears.
A long green cucumber hummed a sea-shanty. Bami crunched it, and his whiskers tingled with salt air. A crisp apple bell rang out a cheerful tune.
Bami hopped from one glowing vegetable to the next, tasting stories he never knew existed.
In the center of the garden stood a massive shivering pumpkin with swirling orange stripes. Its voice rumbled like thunder far away.
Bami backed up one step, then two, his paw hovering over his plate. The pumpkin opened wide and said, "I'm a chocolate cake that forgot to stop growing. Take a bite."
Bami lifted a spoon and dug in. His whole face lit up, his ears did a happy wiggle, and he giggled so hard he bounced off the ground.
Later, at his kitchen table, Bami pushed a rainbow of new foods toward his empty carrot bowl. He hummed a vegetable story all by himself.
