Beneath the daisies, the caretaker opened the storybook. Bramble sat close and listened.
On the page was a forest owl tapping its beak against a hollow tree. Bramble's ears shot straight up.
Bramble wiggled closer, his nose nearly touching the paper.
I know what comes next! Bramble said, pointing to the owl page.
The caretaker turned the page. The owl peeked its head out. A tiny squeak sounded, and Bramble bounced once in triumph.
The next afternoon, they read the same book again. Bramble was even faster this time.
He tilted his head. The owl hoots! Bramble said. The caretaker flipped the page, and there it was.
A small hoot floated off the paper, and Bramble's whiskers twitched with delight.
But on the third reading, something unexpected happened. Right before the hoot — the owl sneezed!
A big fluffy puff of dust landed right on Bramble's nose. He froze. Then he giggled.
He couldn't stop. He hopped side to side between the daisy stems, laughing all alone.
On the next reading, Bramble started the story himself. The caretaker smiled and reached for the book again.