Nicholas And Mr. Pig

Nicholas flopped belly down on the cool grass beside the rock where he’d left his play dough pig to dry.

- Karen Klozenbucher

“I’m an artist, Mr. Pig, and I’ve come to paint you.” He pulled a green marker out of his back pocket and popped off the cap.

He reached for the pig but jerked his arm back. “Mr. Pig! You’ve got spots. Wait here, I shall return!”

Nicholas raced through the back door and up the stairs—thump, thump, thump. He dug through his toy box until he found the doctor’s kit on the bottom.

He rushed back outside and flopped belly down on the cool grass. “I’m a doctor, Mr. Pig, and I’ve come to cure your spots.”

He pulled the stethoscope out of the doctor’s kit and fitted it to his ears. He stretched it toward Mr. Pig but pulled his arm back again. “Mr. Pig! Your spots are ants!”

Nicholas gently tapped Mr. Pig on the nose. The ants ran down Mr. Pig’s legs and disappeared into the grass.

“Why would ants want to sit on you, Mr. Pig?” Nicholas wondered aloud. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

He grabbed the doctor’s bag and ran up the stairs—