Squeak, squeak! Bramble slid down the burrow stairs. His muddy paws smushed into the honey jar. It tipped over with a loud THWACK.
The little fox kit stared at the mess, tail tucked flat. Mama Fox padded in with a towel. "Paws first, little kit," she said gently.
At the wash basin, Mama Fox guided his paws under the water. He scrubbed hard until droplets sprayed a stripe across the stone wall.
"One by one, little kit," Mama Fox said. She nudged the wooden spoon free from under a rock in the sunny meadow grass outside.
Bramble waved the toothbrush away toward breakfast. Mama Fox just hummed, tapping the brush against her lips. He took it and began to scrub.
He brushed his back teeth until — pop! A soap bubble floated off his molar. He poked it; it burst on his nose with a little pfft.
The moon crested the burrow roof, spilling silver light over the meadow. Bramble sat up, paws still muddy, and padded to the basin on his own.
He scrubbed, shook, and padded through the meadow. He lifted the red block, the duster, and the spoon, then brushed until a second bubble popped.
He stood in the moonbeam, tail held high, looking down at his clean, dry paws. The meadow outside was neat and quiet.
Bramble climbed back into bed. His paws pressed the floor and made no squeak. The burrow ticked and hummed around him.
The meadow outside was neat — the block stacked, the duster in its basket, the spoon hooked on a nail. The burrow ticks and hums.
He curled his tail over his nose, the moonbeam steady on his clean fur. Sleep came quickly, deep and dreamless.
