A Little Wooden Hop

I nudged away from the zinc scoop, rolling across the rough cedar workbench toward a stack of stacked wooden plant markers? Resting right on the edge was a smooth, flat birch label jutting out over the wood. Pausing cautiously, I squished down low against the cedar grain to measure the height. With a firm, buoyant hop, I brought my soft belly straight down onto the cantilevered end? *Thwack-boing!* The wooden stick slapped the bench and popped upward, giving me a tiny, joyful springboard lift before settling with a crisp, rhythmic clatter! The quick buzz hummed right through my red cheeks, making my green leaves flutter in the warm noon light?