On the bedroom floor, Jemble stacked cereal boxes and strips of tape into a tall, wiggly robot.
Jemble snapped on the square head with button eyes. Click! The lamp blinked. The robot sat up. "Jelly beans?"
Jemble froze for one tiny second. Then Jemble laughed and grabbed the jelly bean jar.
A rainbow pile of jelly beans rattled into the robot's mouth slot. Munch. Munch. Burp.
The robot waddled after Jemble into the backyard. Its cardboard feet went crackle, crackle on the sidewalk.
Jemble grinned—until the robot bumped the fence, tipped a flowerpot, and nearly fell into the bushes. "Whoa, easy," said Jemble.
Down the cozy block they went for a careful walk. Jemble held out one jelly bean at a time.
But every time Jemble offered one, the robot lunged for three—red, then yellow, then blue.
Sticky jelly bean goo streaked the pavement. Jemble scuffed a shoe at the mess and heard a dog bark behind a gate.
Jemble hurried after the wobbling robot before it could cause a bigger mix-up.
Then—slip! A squished jelly bean sent the robot rolling down a little grassy yard and bursting through a hedge in a flap of cardboard.
Jemble gasped. The robot popped up with leaves on its head and held out one last purple jelly bean.
But one arm hung by a strip of tape. Jemble almost cried and rushed in to hold it steady.
Back in the bedroom workshop, Jemble smoothed on fresh tape and drew a bigger smile on the square face.
Then Jemble set two cups of jelly beans on the rug. Rip went the tape. Sweet candy smell filled the room.
The robot clinked its cardboard hand against Jemble's cup. Jemble laughed and stayed on the floor a long, happy while.
