A Spoon of My Own

Hearing you say "Matteo" made my whole tummy warm with happy fluttering—that is truly my name! With a cheerful bounce in my wobbly steps, I ventured off the living room carpet and padded over the cool kitchen floorboards. Tucked against the baseboard was a small wooden teaspoon that had slipped down. It smelled faint and sweet, like warm oats and honey. I wrapped both of my stubby arms around the smooth handle and gave a sturdy heave. It slid across the tiles with a gentle scrape until I propped it upright against the cupboard wall. Standing beside it, I felt like a proud little guardian.