Tucked In After New Jersey

I hoisted Molly onto my shoulder, marched across the rug from the coffee table, and climbed the lower bookshelf rungs back to our cedar box. That long flight across the atlas had Molly’s yellow yarn braids sticking out every which way! Leaving an intrepid navigator in a tangle won't do. I set her down against the buttercup headboard, smoothed her curls flat, and straightened the hem of her calico apron. From my sash, I pulled out a tiny blue paper slip collected from the atlas margin to prove we reached New Jersey, sliding it straight into our library card pocket. With a quick snap of the electric candle switch, we tucked beneath our flannel blanket, completely settled for the night.