BEDTIME WITH MRS.
HONEYBEE Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be celebrating my last day of school before summer.
What would you like for lunch on your last day,
My dear?
Hmm,
Just the usual.
Not yet,
Melody Bee.
I've got to go to my classroom one more time.
Mrs.
Honeybee,
You're going to be late on your last day.
Oops,
You're right.
Alright,
Let's head out.
I'll see you after school,
And I'll have some little treats with me to start our summer right.
Not those kinds of treats,
Harold.
I'll be back soon.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking up to our house on a warm summer day.
The sun is shining overhead,
And off in the distance you hear the faint sound of the last bell of the school year ringing.
Students and teachers across the entire neighborhood just began their summer break,
And you can feel the excitement in the air.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth as a school bus drives up to our house and stops.
When the doors open,
I step out with my arms full.
Being the kind friend you are,
You run over to help carry everything just as Mr.
Honeybee opens the garage door.
Harold gallops down the driveway,
Excited that everyone has arrived home at the same time.
We look over our shoulder to see Melody Bee fluttering home after guarding all the crossing students in her crosswalk.
You grab a heavy bag of notebooks and three pencil boxes full of erasers.
Melody Bee and Mr.
Honeybee grab what they can as well,
And together we get all the supplies out of the bus so the bus driver can start her summer too.
Hello,
My little Honeybee,
And happy first day of summer vacation.
Hello,
My dear and my little Honeybee.
What is all this stuff,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Extra school supplies and little odds and ends from around the classroom.
I emptied it all out so when we go back in the fall,
It'll be ready to be filled up again.
There are so many,
So many pencil boxes.
Mr.
Honeybee sets a three-foot stack of pencil boxes down,
One by one,
Just as Roger Robot comes out of his cubby.
Ooh,
Supplies.
Are you already on the next prototype,
Mr.
Honeybee?
What are you making with thousands of pencils?
No,
These aren't mine.
This is all stuff for Mrs.
Honeybee's classroom.
We'll sort through everything at some point.
As an expert sorter,
Roger Robot's eyes widen with delight at the sight of so much stuff to be categorized and made use of.
The pencils get and keep his attention.
With each pencil box we set down,
He quickly opens it to combine all the pencils together.
He has to grow his hand into a completely different shape to hold all of them.
When he has run out of hand shapes,
He hands his pack of pencils to Mr.
Honeybee and wheels off in a hurry.
What are you going to do with all of these half-used pencils,
My dear?
I don't know.
I'm sure we'll find some use for them.
Let's put them down on your workbench for now.
Maybe we can sharpen them even more and make them into mini-pencils.
No,
No,
No,
No.
That won't do.
Here,
Let's use this.
Roger comes back with three small sanders.
One for you,
One for him,
And one for Mr.
Honeybee.
Without explaining why,
He starts up his sander and gets to work making dust out of all these extra pencils.
He stops every so often to carefully remove the graphite from the center and creates a smaller version of the same pile with those.
Before he gets back to sanding,
He looks to you and Mr.
Honeybee,
Watching him without following his lead.
Well,
Come on.
This experiment isn't possibly going to perform itself.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose and focus your attention on the transformation at hand.
A pile of pencils to a pile of dust.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and accidentally blow a few of the experimental dust particles away with your powerful exhale.
Roger Robot stops the sander to gather each particle that has been displaced and resumes sanding down the pencils with you and Mr.
Honeybee.
When all the pencils have been sawed to dust and the graphite sticks bundled,
Roger Robot forms the dust mound into the one big pencil shape that is as long as the workbench.
He hands each of us a stick of graphite from the old pencils and he starts laying them down in a straight line along the center of the sawdust pencil.
The graphite leaves our hands slightly gray,
But we follow his lead and line up the sticks all the way to the tip where Roger has sharpened the graphite into a point.
He looks up to us,
Expecting us to be proud,
But instead gets four looks of confusion.
Five,
If you count Harold,
Who is busying himself with stamp ink pads he found in another bag.
You see where this is going,
Right?
Right?
Is there maybe another step?
Actually,
Yes,
There is.
I need some of that pollen.
What pollen?
The knockoff transformation pollen.
It's not a knockoff.
I use it to transform all the time.
You could just use your hard drive,
You know.
I don't have one of those.
I have transformation pollen.
And why do you need it?
For science.
Melody Bee reluctantly hands over a sprinkle of her transformation pollen.
Roger Robot does the official sprinkling,
Then stands back.
We all stand back behind him,
Wondering if this mound of sawdust with graphite sticks in the middle of it will transform into what Roger thinks it will.
It takes a moment at first,
But then a microscopic windstorm kicks up into self-contained mini-tornadoes that surround the experiment.
Before our very eyes,
The pile of sawdust solidifies and transforms into one big pencil that grows even bigger.
We know the pile of sawdust has become a solid giant pencil when it begins to roll off the side of Mr.
Honeybee's workbench.
Roger Robot dies to catch it with both hands before it does.
We cannot believe our eyes as it turns upright on its point and stands straight up,
All on its own.
Roger slowly pulls back his hands and the pencil continues on standing,
Miraculously.
But when it senses that no one is around,
It begins to wiggle and shake like it's going to explode until someone reaches for it once again.
It's alive!
Can we draw with it?
It's a pencil.
Of course we can.
Watch.
We watch closely as Roger draws a single squiggly line on the garage floor.
He stands back to present and admire his work of art done with another work of art.
Melody B buzzes over to try her hand at this magnificent pencil,
But,
As expected,
It's very heavy for her to lift.
Using all of her strength and a little of our help,
Melody B hoists the giant pencil up in the air,
Situating it in her tiny hands.
While she's focused on supporting the weight of the pencil on her shoulder and in her hands,
Melody B doesn't realize that she's also drawing in midair.
Accidental light gray lines are tracing through the garage in confused loops and squiggles as they just hang there,
Floating in place.
Melody B.
What?
I'm trying to get this on my shoulder.
Ugh,
This just won't stay.
Here,
Someone else give this a try.
Melody B,
Look!
What?
Did I draw that?
In the air?
Together,
We marvel at the squiggly lines that stay put long after we try to blink them away.
Roger bends down to the garage floor,
Interacting with his single squiggly line with more confidence now.
He tries to dust it away,
But it won't erase,
So instead he picks at it until he's able to peel it up off the floor.
Shocked he's able to do that,
He smiles and shakes it like a wet dish towel,
Then he layers it over Melody B's blob of lines.
What we see as a formless accidental blob,
You see with your artistic eye as an image waiting to be drawn.
You excitedly take your turn with the giant pencil and begin sketching.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose,
And let the strike of creative inspiration move through your clear mind and open heart.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth,
In a flurry of graphite dust and just a little sparkle from the sunshine.
We are amazed watching you draw in the air,
Lines multiplying in the vacant space of the garage,
But we don't have the inner vision like you to see what it will be.
You expertly place line after line,
And even do some shading on what look like scales to give it extra detail.
When you add the fins and finally a tail,
We see that you've drawn a pufferfish all puffed up.
From Melody B's accidental squiggles,
You added even more to create the spiky exterior of a pufferfish who inflates when it's frightened.
You even draw a frightened face on the pufferfish that floats like a still life in the garage.
Mr.
Honeybee reaches out to touch the drawing and quickly pulls it back when one of the spikes pokes his fingertip.
Everyone,
I don't know if that's just a drawing.
Slowly but surely,
No matter how much we blink,
The pufferfish you drew begins to move.
First just a fin,
Then it blinks right back at us,
Just like we are it.
We shriek and back away from the all-too-real pufferfish that still looks like a pencil drawing floating in midair.
It flops back and forth like,
Well,
A fish out of water,
And that's when we realize,
It needs water,
Quick!
As it flops about looking for water,
The pufferfish rapidly deflates to the point that you can now touch it without poking yourself.
Thinking quickly of the nearest water source,
You grab the pufferfish and head to the pond in the garden.
You place the pufferfish in the pond,
But instead of being submerged into the real water,
The pencil-drawn pufferfish displaces it.
A little wave of pond water curls up over the sides and takes a lily pad with it onto the rocks and grass.
My little honeybee,
Can you draw it some water?
Maybe that's the kind of water it needs.
You quickly get to work making the pufferfish a river of watery waves to dive into.
Once it sees the familiar water,
It dives right in,
Happy as can be,
And swims away.
Where is it swimming to?
Oh no!
We follow Melody Bee's eyes and pointed finger behind us to see what the waves of the river you drew were just that.
The waves of a rushing river that is rushing right towards us.
Together,
We draw a large dam that will divert the floodwaters,
Just like our beaver friends have taught us.
Instead of flooding the garden,
The house,
And honeybee neighborhood,
The rushing,
Wavy lines of the pencil-drawn river flow right out of the backyard and empty into the honey river nearby.
The pencil-drawn river doesn't quite mix with the water of the real river,
But the two run parallel alongside each other in a way that works.
The pufferfish enjoys having a river all to itself,
No need to puff up with its defenses anymore.
Unlike the honey river,
The pencil-drawn river has an end that trickles through.
When the last of the river droplets have flowed along our sketched dam,
We realize one slight,
Crucial oversight.
I probably should have made an eraser too,
Huh?
Probably.
Oh well,
You live and you learn.
And now we have a dam,
And the ocean will eventually have water that doesn't mix,
And a pufferfish.
That seems fine,
Right?
Do we need a dam?
I guess I can give Barry Beaver a call,
See if the Hodge Podge Lodge needs a backup.
That sounds good.
We can keep it with the rest of our boating supplies until we figure out what to do with it.
Who knows,
Maybe it'll come in handy.
If we ever need a pencil-drawn dam for another surprise flooding river,
Also pencil-drawn.
Seems kind of rare,
Mr.
Honeybee.
You can never be too prepared.
With the backup dam tucked away at the docks of the Honey River with the rest of our boating supplies,
It's time for us to enjoy the first evening of summer vacation.
Today was already so eventful,
It's hard to imagine what the rest of the summer will bring us.
On the way back to the house through the forest,
We came up to the back gate and hear something rustling in the grass.
We look around,
But do not see Harold at our feet like he usually is.
We open the gate to see Harold standing guard beside the giant pencil that is quivering in the grass.
Harold has been keeping an eye on the pencil for us to make sure it didn't draw anything while we were gone.
Roger Robot scoops it up and lifts it to draw something else.
Wait,
Wait,
Wait,
Wait,
Roger.
What are you going to draw?
Please,
No wild animals.
It needs a pencil case.
Maybe if we put it away in its case,
Then it won't rattle too much.
Like a power cycle,
You know?
I know,
I get quite rattly when I don't power cycle.
Same.
I wonder why it shakes like that.
Maybe it's trying to get someone's attention.
Maybe the giant magic pencil just loves drawing.
And what if it's like Harold?
It's like Harold.
He needs to walk every day.
This pencil needs to be drawn a little,
Or a lot,
Every day.
So when someone is nearby,
It tries to start drawing itself to get their attention.
Not hearing another word of our musing,
Roger Robot closes the lid of a gigantic pencil box on the gigantic magic pencil.
When the lid is closed,
The pencil shuts down and is completely silent.
A silence that we feel relief hearing for the moment.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of a pencil-thin line of air coming in through your nose,
Tracing its way to your lungs,
And expanding your chest out with endless possibility.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and wonder to yourself what you will draw next.
It could be anything.
Wow.
This is one lively pencil.
That's it.
That's it.
This is called the lively pencil.
Every invention needs a name,
And that's it.
Aww.
We can't deprive the lively pencil of what it loves most.
Roger,
Open the case just one more time.
Are you sure,
My dear?
It's getting kind of late.
It might be hard to draw an emergency dam without sunlight.
No,
Nothing like that,
Mr.
Honeybee.
Something smaller.
A flower!
A flower in permanent bloom for the table.
It'll be perfect.
Roger that,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
One ever-blooming flower coming right up.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special,
And you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be going to the garden.
Harvest Day!
It's Harvest Day!
The best day!
Melody Bee,
You've ruined the surprise.
It's not a surprise.
I've had a countdown calendar up for six months now.
Crossing off each day as it passes,
Everyone knows it's my favorite day of the year.
Harvest Day!
Do we have plans for Harvest Day this year,
Melody Bee?
Mr.
Honeybee,
Do I look like a bee without a plan?
Okay,
Okay.
You're right,
Melody Bee.
What's up first?
Follow me!
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here enjoying an early morning stroll to our house on one of the first days of spring.
The sun is shining,
And the birds are just starting to wake up from sleep.
They stretch their wings out wide as if awakening from a long hibernation and begin singing their songs.
Taking time to notice all the things we don't usually notice when we're bumbling about our busy lives is something you love to do.
So you relish in each feather you see ruffled through the leaves,
Each ray of sunshine peeking through the treetops,
And each snail you carefully step over out for their morning slither across the sidewalk.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and continue on your morning stroll.
You're so consumed by the beauty of nature waking up from winter that you don't see me and Mr.
Honeybee enjoying our morning coffee out on the porch until a particularly amusing bluebird swoops right by us.
Why,
Hello there.
Good morning,
My little Honeybee.
You sure are early.
Harold's not even awake yet.
Either is Melody Bee.
The sun just barely woke up.
Do you want some tea?
I poured an extra pot of sweet orange for Melody Bee,
But she does seem to be sleeping in today.
This goes perfectly with breakfast.
Just as I pour the tea,
Melody Bee,
Who is very much awake,
Bursts out through the door with the energy of her own personal springtime.
What a brilliant day this is.
A splendid day.
What is today exactly,
Besides splendid?
I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that,
Mr.
Honeybee.
It's not her birthday.
Mrs.
Honeybee,
Is it Melody Bee's birthday?
No,
My dear.
It's not my birthday.
That's a special day,
I'll admit.
No,
This is a monumental day.
Even more special for the whole world.
Or,
Well,
Half of it,
I guess.
Well,
I forgot that I have to go inside for some reason.
Chat with you later.
Melody Bee uses her tiny body to block Mr.
Honeybee from going inside and not learning why today is so special.
She takes it a step further and tickles his ears with a carefully placed buzz.
Okay,
Okay,
I'll bite.
What is today,
Melody Bee?
Please tell me.
I just need to know.
I am so glad you asked,
Because today,
Today is Harvest Day.
For the spring vegetables.
Translate this into meals for me.
Melody Bee,
I need some help.
Um,
Only the best ones.
Do you like french fries?
Who doesn't?
We'll harvest potatoes today.
And garlic.
And onions,
Too.
And beets.
And carrots.
And peas.
Oh my.
Come on,
Let's wake up Roger Robar.
We need to reap what we've sown.
What now?
It's Harshest Day?
Is today going to be harsh or something?
Why?
What?
No.
It's Harvest Day.
There's so much to do.
Everything is perfectly ripe for the picking.
I need extra pickers.
Little Honeybee is with me.
Come on,
Come on.
Without letting us finish our coffee or tea,
We take our last few sips before Melody Bee's enthusiasm pulls us through the backyard to the greenhouse where she planted her winter garden.
Before we even go inside the glass door,
We see why Melody Bee is so excited.
We must not have been to this side of the backyard in a while,
But now there is greenery every which way you look.
Green stems full of leaves pushing against the glass of the greenhouse,
Trying their best to push through to the chilly winter air.
Melody Bee's plants have grown so big and bushy that it's difficult to navigate once inside.
She leads us to the back of the greenhouse where a tabletop root vegetable garden is overflowing with stems nearly buckling under the weight of gigantic green leaves.
Root vegetables are the most fun to harvest because look,
All of them look the same,
Right?
Melody Bee brushes her hands along the luxurious beet greens and carrot tops that prove her point by standing perfectly uniform side by side.
The onions are the same and the artichokes and the parsnips and the beets.
You think each one is exactly the same from the looks of them,
But you couldn't be more wrong if you thought that.
Each of these veggies are unique just like people and bees and robots.
We're all special for ways that are apparent and sometimes less apparent,
Which is why you gotta spend time with people and bees.
And robots,
As we all know.
Anyways,
Now's our time to spend time with these veggies and see how special they are.
And appreciate all the hard,
Invisible,
Magical work they've been doing under the soil all winter.
As Melody Bee passes everyone their gardening gloves,
Pruners,
And harvest baskets,
You notice how soft the sun feels filtered by the greenhouse glass.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the sensation of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times as it grows your dreams into your reality in the cultivated soil of your life.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and let yourself daydream to follow where your heart leads.
Here,
Surrounded by the magic and mystery of nature.
Roger Robot scoffs and objects to wearing gardening gloves and snaps his fingers to make his hands into combination pruners and shovels just in case.
I have everything I need right here.
Thank you very much.
We will be harvesting the carrots we are standing in front of first.
From the looks of it,
Each of the carrot tops looks to be the same exact size.
But we know from Melody Bee and our experience in the world that judging a book by its cover or a carrot by its carrot top is the surest way to not realize the gifts and beauty that each and everything on this planet carries within it.
So,
You want to be gentle with the carrots.
They're very sleepy.
If they had their way,
They would stay under the soil forever because they love the dark.
But they wouldn't be too happy come summer because they like the cool weather more.
So it's time for us to pick them,
To wake them up from their cozy slumber and show them the sunshine.
Here we go.
Melody Bee picks the most beautiful orange carrot.
It's long and straight and much bigger than she expected.
It takes both of her hands to carry it,
But she does proudly.
Next is Mr.
Honeybee's turn.
Roger Robot decides to go too.
Using much less precision,
They simultaneously plunk carrots at random from the soil.
Both unearth the teeniest,
Tiniest carrots we've ever seen.
Their spiral-shaped and Roger's looks like it's trying to grow an extra limb.
Mr.
Honeybee and Roger Robot chuckle at their carrots,
But Melody Bee is quick to see their glory.
Those are baby carrots,
Perfect for dipping in homemade garlicky hummus.
Wow,
What a wonderful harvest so far.
If you say so.
I'll take some baby carrots,
They're bite-sized.
Does this mean you're going to make us hummus,
Melody Bee?
Oh,
Please.
Of course,
But we have to get the garlic and onions first.
Roger that,
Melody Bee.
Now it's our turn,
My little Honeybee.
Together,
We gently tug on the carrot tops so as not to rudely awake them from their slumber and slowly pull them out of the soil.
Both of ours are huge and different.
They don't have just one point,
Oh no.
Our carrots look like they have three legs and yours has four.
The legs curl around each other and look gnarled at the end.
At first we wonder if something is wrong with these carrots.
Then we look at each other with a grin and take big chomps out of our perfectly imperfect carrots.
A garden fresh taste test.
I love it.
How are they?
Perfect.
Wait,
Wait,
Wait,
Wait just a minute.
Why can't we just build the perfect carrot like we,
Ahem,
Built the perfect robot,
Huh?
What,
Like grow them in a lab?
Yes,
Exactly.
You'd be surprised what foods they can grow in labs these days.
I wonder if I can build a robot carrot.
Well,
While you work on that in your lab,
I'll be in the greenhouse munching on some fresh kale and carrots and parsnips.
Boy,
We're just getting started.
Get your baskets ready.
We spend the entire day harvesting the winter garden,
Sorting through all the produce,
And trimming back the plants so they can grow even more as the season dwindles into spring.
Some of the veggies go straight into the compost pile to make soil for the next season.
Others we will can and store in the pantry for years and years.
Still others we will leave in the soil to let their flowers bloom so they can go to seed and give us their seeds for our next harvest.
And still others we will enjoy today.
But all that we grow and harvest in the garden,
No matter what,
Will go to good use.
Everything,
Everyone,
Has its purpose.
When we harvest or reap what we sow,
We learn our purpose and function just as much as we learn how to grow in the ways we'd like to grow.
Are your carrots smushed and wrapped around each other?
Maybe you need a bigger garden plot so those carrots have enough room to grow and expand.
Do you get frustrated often and sow seeds of discontent sprinkled throughout your life?
Maybe you,
Too,
Need some glorious space to quietly be you,
Like the magic of a carrot growing under the soil.
Harvest days are so special because they help us reflect.
What we reap is a measure of our time spent.
How can you spend your time wisely and look forward to reaping what you sow today,
My little honeybee?
When we're all done with our long day of harvesting,
We spread it all out in the backyard to take stock of what we have.
Then we form piles depending on what we'll do with those veggies.
Mr.
Honeybee and Roger Robot are in charge of bringing the veggies most suited for the compost pile over,
And they're in charge of turning the composter bin.
The rest of us,
Including Harold,
Get to work on figuring out what we'll make from our harvest.
What about homemade french fries with fresh garlic?
Did you hear that,
Mr.
Honeybee?
Should we make homemade french fries?
That gets my vote.
I don't know.
What about carrot cake?
Carrot cake gets my vote.
Since we're at an even tie,
We look to you and Harold to help us.
In your shared infinite wisdom,
You point out that why do we have to choose one thing or the other when we can use the both-and approach and make them all?
Both carrots and potatoes.
Maybe that could also make a good stew.
The potatoes can go in gnocchi pasta,
And the carrots can go into carrot cake cupcakes.
Taking our bountiful harvest into the kitchen,
We each get started making our own harvest day meal to share with the rest of the table.
And the best part of all of this?
We get to spend this precious time together,
Laughing and learning,
Appreciating our hard work and challenging ourselves to become even better versions of ourselves come next harvest day.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special,
And you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be enjoying the great outdoors.
I've got a frisbee,
Harold's favorite chew toys,
A cooler full of snacks,
And this big umbrella just in case it rains.
I don't think it's supposed to rain today,
My dear.
But you never know when clouds might pass overhead,
So it's better to be prepared.
I'm ready for anything,
Mr.
Honeybee.
See,
I've got an umbrella hat.
How do I look?
You look great,
Melody Bee.
And even more importantly,
You look prepared.
Because you never know what might come falling from the sky.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Just about to turn the corner to arrive at our house.
It's a cool day today,
And the clouds are out and puffy,
So you brought your umbrella just in case.
When you're a couple houses away,
The clouds look especially puffy,
Thick,
As if they weren't made of water.
You look up to the sky and see the first few bright blue drops begin to fall.
You quickly put your hood up and open your umbrella to shield yourself from the bigger-than-usual raindrops.
As you walk up our driveway,
You notice something different about these raindrops.
Instead of falling to the ground and melting into their very own tiny puddles,
These drops balance.
We hear the strange sound hitting the roof and run outside well before you get to the door to knock,
Thinking that we'd find a hailstorm outside.
Oh,
My little honeybee,
Come.
Come in from the hail.
Come up to the porch,
My little honeybee.
How on earth is it hailing like this?
It's not even winter.
You realize that something about these drops were not typical,
But you haven't yet put your finger on it or the drops.
Whereas you,
Mr.
Honeybee,
And I hang back on the porch to observe the strange happening for a little while longer,
Melody Bee darts out into the strange following the bounce of the peculiar drops and twirls around in it as if it was a delightfully normal summer rain.
All rain is good rain.
For a full dramatic flair,
Melody Bee looks her head to the sky and opens her mouth wide to catch the drops herself,
Just like she does the rain.
She pauses for a moment to chew and then for a moment longer because whatever she's chewing on is incredibly chewy.
Then she pauses with an analytical expression on her face.
It's,
It's,
It's raining gummies.
Gummies?
How is it raining gummies?
But it is.
Look at all these.
Some of them are even blue.
Harold is just as mesmerized by the raining gummies,
But instead of eating them,
He chases them as they bounce,
Leaping down the driveway and along the sidewalk.
These can't be gummies,
Can they?
And here I'm thinking that hail was out of the ordinary.
Here in the Honey Bee neighborhood,
My dear,
You just never know.
Roger.
Set up the beakers and the Bunsen burners.
We have an experiment on our hands.
Roger that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
While Melody Bee is focused on tasting each and every color gummy that falls from the sky,
Harold is chasing them and tracking down the ever elusive pink gummy for Melody Bee to try.
And Mr.
Honey Bee enters the fold,
Dutifully collecting randomized samples in little glass containers.
Standing at the front door,
We look at each other,
Then back at them and smile to ourselves,
Knowing that adventure is always at our doorstep.
Isn't it,
My little Honey Bee?
Okay,
I've got enough random samples.
Roger Robot and I will test these in the garage.
I'll let you know what we find.
Looking forward to it,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Mr.
Honey Bee disappears into the garage without so much as hearing my reply.
Wanting to find some middle ground between Melody Bee's voracious appetite for reigning gummies and Mr.
Honey Bee's careful scientific observation,
We step out into the heavy gummy rain,
Both huddled under your umbrella.
Harold runs past us furiously,
Chasing down an extra large purple gummy that has bounced over 31 times since falling from the strange clouds overhead.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose and the anticipation growing in your chest.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and reach out your hand with mine to try to catch our own gummies.
They're just as bouncy as they look,
And one right after another bounces softly off our upturned palms.
It takes a little maneuvering,
But we finally grab hold of two gummies each.
They're small in our hands and very brightly colored.
They're squishy as expected,
But the fact that they're just as we would expect gummies to be makes it even more strange that they're falling from the sky.
In the middle of our shared contemplation of this strange circumstance we find ourselves in,
Melody Bee makes her feelings known.
Melody Bee doubles over,
Holding her belly which is likely filled to the brim with gummies,
All color coordinated of course.
We yell out for Mr.
Honey Bee,
Who must not be able to hear us from the garage.
Like the good friend you are,
You stay with Melody Bee to make sure she's okay while I run to get Mr.
Honey Bee to see what he's learned about the gummies.
Melody Bee sprawls out in the grass,
Flattened out with her head resting ever so pleasantly on a small mound of dandelions.
Little Honey Bee,
Is that you?
All I can see are gummies,
And more gummies.
Oh.
You look back to the garage,
Waiting for one of us to come out.
Just before you yell out to us,
Roger Robot wheels out with a familiar authority.
Mr.
Honey Bee and I,
Following closely behind.
Melody Bee,
Get up.
You need to hear this.
Everyone,
Gather round,
Gather round.
Melody Bee,
O Earth to Melody Bee.
Melody Bee's here.
Please turn down his volume,
Someone.
It's so sleepy.
What did you find,
Roger?
Mr.
Honey Bee?
Do we need to take Melody Bee to the doctor?
Yes,
We might need to.
Really?
What did you find?
With all the drama she can muster,
Melody Bee sits up in the grass and exclaims.
Am I a goner?
I'm on my last leg,
Little Honey Bee.
Roger?
What is it?
Is she gonna be okay?
What did you find in the gummies?
Oh,
Nothing.
They have identical composition to the gummies Mrs.
Honey Bee and Melody Bee made last week.
They're regular old gummies,
Just from the clouds.
Then what's wrong with her?
Uh,
She ate too many gummies.
Hello?
Just like last time.
The gummies got the best of me again.
Why are they so delicious?
Let me try one of those.
How do you eat those?
So,
So sweet.
How dare you speak that way about honey sweet things.
I don't get it.
I just don't get it.
Knowing that the gummies are indeed just that,
You,
Mr.
Honey Bee,
And I grab a handful for ourselves.
We assume Melody Bee,
Who is still laying flattened out on the grass,
Does not want any more gummies.
As Mr.
Honey Bee chews and chews,
I see that look in his eyes.
The one that tells me he has an idea brewing.
Before the look takes over and sends him on a mission,
He pauses.
How can gummies just rain down from the clouds?
There must be gummy clouds,
Right?
Hmm.
Do you still have the Doppler radar system we built when you wanted it to be a.
.
.
Let's not talk about it,
Roger Robot.
When you wanted to be a what,
Mr.
Honey Bee?
Suddenly,
Healed of her woes,
Melody Bee sits up on her elbows with a little grin,
Knowing that this is probably going to make her giggle.
Oh,
Nothing.
And to answer your question,
Roger,
Yes,
I do.
That's a great.
.
.
Mr.
Honey Bee wanted to be a storm chaser.
Oh,
Not seriously or anything.
It was a really cool idea,
I'll admit.
But that first strong wind where you lost your beloved hat.
That was hard to watch.
I loved that hat.
I'm sorry,
My dear.
But hey,
You got a really cool weather gadget out of it,
And I bet it's going to help us now,
Right?
It can.
It uses radar to monitor precipitation or winds as they approach.
It's how weather people tell us the weather.
There seems to be a grouping of gummies falling right over the house.
Let's go get the Doppler.
Roger that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Together,
Mr.
Honey Bee and Roger Robot fire up the Doppler radar system and immediately locate the anomalous cloud,
Which is hanging right over the house for now.
Since the winds are moving quickly,
Roger Robot wheels into action.
He centers himself below the cloud and with the snap of his fingers,
He reaches his arm up and it keeps reaching and reaching and reaching until it gets all the way up to the cloud.
He tries to pull it down with one hand,
But it's stuck in its ways and stubbornly refuses to budge.
Roger Robot extends his other arm up and muscles the whole cloud down.
When it gets closer,
We all reach up with him,
Trying to keep the cloud grounded long enough to inspect it.
By now,
Melody Bee has digested some of the gummies and is back on her feet,
Ready to help.
We hold the cloud still and realize that it itself is gummy.
It's not a regular cloud.
It's a gummy cloud,
Which makes perfect sense why gumdrops fall from it instead of raindrops.
After a bit more inspection,
Some research,
And some willpower to hold this cloud down on the ground for a moment longer,
Mr.
Honey Bee makes sense of all of this.
This cloud gummified because I think it got to a really high altitude and thus cold.
But then,
As it collected more moisture on this particular dewy day,
It dropped lower and lower toward the earth and thus heated up.
I bet this cloud did this so much that the water molecules inside didn't know whether to be water in a liquid state or water in a gaseous state.
Because the cloud couldn't make up its mind,
The water inside became gummy.
In other words,
A little bit of both.
With that,
We all let go of the gum cloud to let it soar back up into the sky and rain gumdrops down on the rest of the Honey Bee neighborhood.
Before she lets go,
Though,
Melanie Bee takes her one chance to take a big,
Chomping bite out of the biggest gummy she's ever seen and relishes each gummy chew before once again feeling sick.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee Today,
In the Honey Bee neighborhood,
We'll be exploring a place where cars are forbidden to go.
No cars allowed?
What do you mean?
This isn't just a regular exploration adventure,
Melody Bee.
We'll have to call on some new animal friends to get us where we're going.
I love making new animal friends.
All right,
We're all packed.
Mrs.
Honey Bee,
Don't forget your hiking boots.
Good reminder,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
I'll grab those and then we'll be all ready to go.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey Bee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking up to the porch,
Just about to knock on our brightly colored front door when the garage door opens and Melody Bee buzzes out,
Bursting with excitement.
Buzz,
Buzz,
Buzz.
Harold nipping at her heels,
Wiggling and jumping up to reach her.
When they see you,
They rush over to give you big hugs hello,
Just as Mr.
Honey Bee and I come out to see where they went.
My little Honey Bee,
You're here.
Are you ready to go canyoneering?
The splendid canyon is waiting for us.
It sure is,
And we cannot keep it waiting.
Do you want an adventure hat and vest like mine,
Little Honey Bee?
It has plenty of pockets for all that we'll need.
One right here,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
A hidden one here,
That's six.
While Melody Bee counts her endless pockets,
She doesn't even notice me handing you your very own adventurer's garb.
A floppy hat to protect you from the sun,
A pocketed vest already full of handheld tools you'll need,
And sturdy hiking boots to protect your ankles.
You and Mr.
Honey Bee suit up and go over all that you have and will need for our canyoneering trip,
With Melody Bee still counting her pockets behind you.
I don't know if this one counts,
But it's a miniature pocket,
So you know what,
Let's count it.
That's fifteen,
Sixteen,
Seventeen.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest expand along with your adventurer's vest that fits snugly around you.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and pull your floppy hat down to shade your eyes from the blazing sun.
It's going to be warm out there,
Dear.
Do we have plenty of sunscreen?
Yep,
Here's a dollop for each of your noses.
Oh,
Is this necessary?
Yes,
And for you,
My little Honey Bee,
Gotta keep my people safe.
With a stripe of white sunscreen soaking into both of your noses,
I make sure to get Melody Bee's and Harold's noses too,
As well as my own,
While Mr.
Honey Bee continues with the preparations.
In your right chest pocket,
You'll find your personal first aid kit.
We also have another one in the pack,
Do we?
Yes,
We do.
I checked it at least four times.
Should I check again?
We have it,
My dear.
Knew it.
Okay.
In all your left pockets,
That's where all your repelling gear is,
Your belay climbing device and locking carabiner.
Here are your ropes to hang from your hip,
Like this.
And here are the most important,
Your harness.
Yes,
We're bringing a harness for you too,
Harold.
Don't worry.
And your helmet.
To protect that big,
Beautiful,
Squishy brain of yours.
I have 28 pockets,
Everyone.
I can probably carry all of you in here if needed.
Good to know,
Melody Bee.
Here's your helmet and harness too.
Let me do a quick check of all of us.
Looking good.
Okay.
And the car.
Check,
Check,
Rafts and oars.
Check,
Life vests.
Oh,
We don't need those,
Right?
These vests inflate to be life vests,
Don't they?
Oh,
That's right.
That's right.
You know what?
We'll bring them just in case.
It's better to have them and not need them.
Prepared for our canyoneering trip,
We pile into the car and head off to the splendid canyon.
Which is a short drive away,
Followed by an interesting ride.
Well,
You'll see.
Harold is in his carrier,
Seat belted into the middle seat between you and Melody Bee.
You drape your arm over the carrier and peek inside every so often to see if he's fallen asleep.
As usual,
Both of them are fast asleep before we get anywhere near the desert that contains our destination.
Looking out your window,
Your eyes trace the tall outlines of the saguaro cacti that reach from the flat desert ground up to the wide open blue sky.
There isn't a cloud in sight.
The hot desert sun has evaporated them all away.
Even through the car window,
You can feel yourself getting a slight tan on one arm.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift with excitement and anticipation of our arrival.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth as we come up to an unexpectedly forested part of the journey.
We have climbed up in elevation,
So though the sun is still beaming down,
The cool alpine air is fresh and rejuvenating.
Bring your attention again to your breath as it steadily rolls in and out.
Inhale,
Exhale,
Connected one to the other like the blur of trees outside your window.
The trees are so dense,
In fact,
That we can only drive our car so far.
Before we need to park and hike the rest of the way.
Harold wakes up,
Excited to begin the adventure.
As soon as you open his carrier door,
He runs up ahead,
Leading the way.
We'll know when we get to the right spot.
How will we know?
You'll know,
Trust me.
What do I look for?
What if I don't know?
I can't see the color red,
Remember?
Will my knowing require me to see the color red?
Not in the least,
Melody B.
Melody B assumes a hypervigilance that distracts her from obvious things like low-hanging tree branches.
Where'd that come from?
In favor of less obvious things.
There is an indentation here.
It's a paw print.
And look,
The moss is growing on this side of the tree.
Have we arrived?
Are we here?
Is this how we know we're here?
No,
Melody B.
You'll know.
You'll know.
Trust that you'll know when you know.
I trust that I'll know when I know.
Melody B repeats her affirmation to herself until she believes it or gets distracted by knowing that we've arrived.
My sense is that we've arrived.
I feel like I know this.
We're here.
Are the donkeys going to hike with us?
No,
Silly.
These are mules and they are professionals at canyoneering.
They're going to take us down the steep walls of the canyon so we can explore it.
What canyon?
I don't see a canyon,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
It's right here.
Here.
Up just a couple steps from where we are,
We walk up to a steep ridge that reveals a majestic canyon that carves into the earth for miles.
You have to squint to see the other side.
And just looking at it,
You know that it's a world away in distance,
But together,
Both sides create this astonishing natural wonder.
Tracing down the walls with your awestruck eyes,
You can see gradations of differently colored sediment that look like watercolor.
The entire view looks like it could be a painting and you have to convince yourself by the height of the cliff you're standing in front of that it is very much real.
Why can't we walk ourselves?
Or flutter?
These mules have organized themselves into a mule-run sanctuary for working mules,
Donkeys,
And horses.
They love helping all kinds of creatures explore their home safely,
And when they're ready to do a ride down to the bottom of the canyon where they spend a portion of their time by the river,
They invite people who need rides.
Trust me,
Walking down is much harder than you think.
It might even be more difficult than walking up.
Look at those hooves.
These mules are professionals.
Wow,
It looks like they have built-in hiking boots.
I think they do.
We hop on the mules and begin the long,
Slow journey down one of the trails.
You trust your mule implicitly and look for cues that she needs to nibble on a snack.
Reaching into your pack,
You get some of your carrots and a few apple slices to share when she needs it.
Harold cannot balance on a mule so well,
So he packed himself into a mesh hiking backpack for pups that I'm wearing right in front of you.
He smiles at you the whole way down,
So happy to be on this adventure with you.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your heartbeat align in rhythm to the steady trot of the mules for one,
Two,
Three beats.
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth to enjoy the last stretch of our relaxing mule ride down to the canyon walls.
Our mule friends drop us off at a rushing river that stretches out as far as you can see to either side.
There,
We give them our treats and adjust our packs to make sure we've distributed their weight in the best possible way.
Let's go canyoneering,
Everyone!
We can hardly decide what to do first,
And we have days and days to do it all,
So there's no rushing,
Besides that river,
Of course.
Looking at our maps,
We see that there's a cave just down the way to check out,
And of course the best way to get there is to river raft.
You and Mr.
Honeybee inflate the raft,
And Melody Bee and I expand the collapsible oars,
One for everyone.
Harold loves rafting,
So he leaps up onto the flattened yellow circle of rubber before it's all the way inflated.
Melody Bee and I are next,
Then you and Mr.
Honeybee join before pushing us off the shore and flowing into the great unknown.
The river takes us up into its flow effortlessly,
And we skillfully navigate the white-capped waves that rush over boulders and even trees that are stuck at the river bottom.
Here comes a small waterfall.
Here we go!
We're not jumping off that,
Right?
Right?
Oh no!
We launch off the edge of the waterfall,
Flying like mist through the air until we land on the next portion of the river that twists and turns between the canyon walls that it created.
After several corners turned a bit too quickly,
We arrive at the most narrow part of the canyon where we can catch the shore with an anchor and combine all of our strength to stop the raft from continuing on.
We stop for a while to enjoy the peaceful surroundings of a desolate,
Beautiful canyon before taking on our biggest challenge yet,
Rappelling up and down these vertical canyon walls.
Mr.
Honeybee is adept at rock climbing and usually interrupts our mountain biking rides to climb new rock formations he finds in the forest.
He does the same with these rocks to ensure this is a good area for us to climb along with him.
He climbs up the tall rocks with Melody Bee fluttering beside him to establish the top rope anchor.
Watching them carefully to see how it goes,
You prepare yourself to climb by going through an invisible checklist in your mind.
You have your helmet,
Your climbing gloves,
Your supplies,
And most importantly,
All the courage and skill that thrives in your heart and mind.
And with that,
You can do anything.
Mr.
Honeybee rappels down and we take our position as your belayers.
We always have your back,
My little Honeybee,
But today especially.
We will hold the bottom of the rope should you want to push away from the rocks and fly a little with Melody Bee who will be buzzing by your side for moral support.
You are now ready to take your first focused steps up the wall of the splendid canyon.
Take your slowest,
Deepest breath in through your nose.
The focus you have narrows your vision and your senses to what is exactly in front of you,
Sandy,
Reddish-brown rocks.
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and grab for them to pull yourself up,
Up,
Up,
Right hand,
Right foot,
Left hand,
Left foot.
You ascend like a professional and do not stop to look at how far you've come until you hear us cheering you on from the ground.
Then you look back to see that you've climbed hundreds of feet up the canyon and can look out over the Whitewater River,
The caves,
And the captivating natural designs of the rock walls.
You did it,
My little Honeybee.
We have your rope held taut on the ground so you push off from the wall to swing around and get the best view.
Doing so allows you to see something that is right beside you.
When you look back to the rock wall in front of you,
You realize that there's a small cave hidden in the wall of the canyon.
You maneuver slowly and with utmost focus over to that side and peek your head in.
It's much bigger than you expect and occupied with yet another new friend.
The kind eyes of a sleepy sloth blink hello before he goes back to his nap.
Each of us takes turn climbing up and visiting the cave you found before the sun sets and it's time to set up camp.
For the next week,
We explore our way through as much of the canyon as we can following the river and our natural curiosity.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be baking and I may even reveal my special ingredient.
Hey,
What's this special ingredient?
How come I don't know this?
I'm your BFF.
You'll know it when you hear it,
Melody Bee.
Any guesses?
Caramel.
What?
What?
Oh,
Oh,
Oh,
Caramel.
Sometimes I just like to say the fancy version,
Caramel.
No,
Mr.
Honeybee,
No caramel.
I mean caramel.
This ingredient is much sweeter.
This special ingredient is unlimited.
I've got to pop out to the garden to grab a little more cinnamon.
I'll be back in just a moment.
Then we'll talk about the special ingredient.
I'll come with you.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here at our doorstep,
Waiting to hear Harold hear you and scurry around the stairs before crash landing right into the door.
As if on cue,
Melody Bee arrives to have trouble with the new locks that Roger Robot insisted we install.
After several attempts,
But much fewer than last time,
Melody Bee swings the door wide open.
You've prepared by standing back because you know by now that the two of them will be so happy to see you that they will clobber you with hugs.
You hug your hellos and wipe the puppy kisses from your cheek and follow your nose inside where the smell is unidentifiable but delicious.
My little Honeybee,
There you are.
Now you don't have to be the only taste tester,
Mr.
Honeybee.
Darn.
I think our little Honeybee needs to help out Melody Bee and Harold with something out in the garden,
Right?
Just until you slice up that blueberry pie.
No,
He's fibbing.
We all get to taste test.
Even with my laser-precise cuts,
There won't be enough for everyone to taste test and have enough to hand out to the neighbors.
We can just taste test this one to make sure the whole thing is delicious.
Then give the neighbors the next one.
Sounds perfect to me.
What sense does that make?
Then how will we know the other pies are good to go?
That they won't have a clump of salt or baking soda just waiting to be chopped?
If we must do a second round of taste testing,
I will.
I guess I can do it too for all the pies.
It's hard work,
But someone's got to do it.
Hey,
I can taste test the other pies too,
Too.
While Mr.
Honey Bee,
Roger Robot,
And Melody Bee verbally spar over who will taste test what and why,
We quietly slice up the blueberry pie and sit down at our places at the table with some sparkling apple cider.
Cheers to the real taste tests,
My little honey bee.
Okay,
So we'll each get a bite,
One bite out of the pies.
That'll be enough.
That is not an adequate sample size.
You take a bite over here and over there?
Oh,
That's a baking soda clump.
What if we give away pie slices so our neighbors can get slices from the taste tested pies?
That's the only way I see through this.
The only way.
That should work.
That does sound good.
What do you think,
Mrs.
Honey Bee?
Wait,
They're already taste testing without us.
Without another thought to method or sample sizes,
Each of them slices their piece and joins us at the table.
Whereas the kitchen was full of the sounds of debate just seconds ago,
It is now luxuriously quiet with the sounds of happy bellies.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Bring your attention to your taste buds and allow yourself to experience each and every sweet,
Tart,
And satisfying note until you finish your slice.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and sit back into the comfy chair,
Savoring the delicious tastes that linger in your mouth.
Mrs.
Honey Bee,
Tell us.
How do you make these so good?
It shouldn't be possible.
Maybe it's actually illegal how good this is,
But we just don't know it.
Maybe we shouldn't give these out.
There is nothing in the local Honey Bee neighborhood statutes about pies.
I think we're safe,
Melody Bee.
Oh,
Good.
Well?
How do you do it,
Mrs.
Honey Bee?
Hmm.
Well,
I use heirloom recipes that have been handed down in the Honey Bee family for generations.
That's definitely part of it.
But the other part has to be the love.
You're probably tasting the love,
My loves.
Ah,
That makes sense.
That must be it.
How does that make sense?
Is love an actual ingredient,
Mrs.
Honey Bee?
Love cannot be an ingredient.
Don't be silly,
Roger.
Love is the most important ingredient.
For baked goods?
For everything.
What about flour,
Sugar,
Eggs?
Those are important,
Too.
Don't get me wrong.
It's not a competition between ingredients.
They're all important in their own ways.
And that is what the love does once you put it in.
How do you add love?
Well,
I have a bunch more baked goods to make for the neighbors.
I'll show you.
We quickly rinse our plates and set them up in the drying rack before turning to an orderly assembly line of baked goods in various stages of preparation.
There are cookies,
Cakes,
Pies,
Candies,
And even some vegetable dishes for dinner that we're giving away to our beloved neighbors just for funsies.
Your eyes feast on the array of sweets and savories before you stand beside Melody Bee in front of a baking sheet full of blondies that are ready to be wrapped up.
So these.
How would you add love to these?
Actually,
What are these?
Those are blondies for our neighbors who don't like the taste of chocolate.
I made them with chickpeas.
Garbanzo beans?
Same thing.
Added a bit of nut butter and honey to the beans-slash-chickpeas and topped them off with a layer of candied pecans.
They're scrumptious and full of nutrients.
This is another one of Yumma the Chef's recipes.
I wish I wasn't so full.
We need to make sure those are taste-tested pronto.
Did you already add the love to these then?
Yes,
Those already have some love in them.
But the great thing about love is there can never be too much.
I'm sure there can be.
Won't it get mushy?
It might.
Let's be judicious with the love for now.
You all take your places standing on either side of me as I demonstrate exactly how to do it.
First,
We use the spatula to scrape the blondies out of the pan one by one with enough care to not crumble them.
Then,
We individually wrap them up in our compost-friendly paper and tie it with a little bow at the top.
Now,
Each of the blondies look like gifts and the care of attention to detail we've given them will pass along the love in our hearts to the gift itself.
And that is how we add love.
Well,
One way at least.
There are infinite ways to add love to things you make and do.
Infinite,
You say?
Yes,
Roger.
Infinite.
Here,
Let's start this batch of red velvet cupcakes.
Mr.
Honeybee,
Can you grab a couple beets from the pantry?
Beets?
For the cupcakes?
How else are they going to turn red,
My dear?
Our love!
And the beets?
Two beets coming up.
We each take turns filling up the blender with ingredients for this recipe and when we're all done and in the middle of a riveting conversation about whether cucumbers are fruits or vegetables,
We start it.
Before we know it,
Whirls of red velvet cupcake batter whip against the counter,
The floor,
The ceiling,
And even us.
Nice.
Oh no,
Melody Bee.
I can't even see you to help.
Oh no,
It's ruined.
All of the love we put in there is ruined.
Actually,
This is perfect.
Perfect?
Perfect.
Before Melody Bee can worry a moment longer,
I use a tiny teaspoon to scoop up some batter and launch it at both Mr.
Honeybee and Melody Bee,
Effectively starting a batter battle.
When we're making or doing things with love,
We know that they may not come out perfect.
We also know that unexpected things can go wrong,
Like forgetting to secure the lid to the blender before turning it on.
But rolling with the flow of those mishaps rather than fearing them or,
Worse,
Being discouraged by them is how you preserve all the love.
It's the intention,
The effort,
And the care that we put in that matters,
Not how it looks or how perfect it is according to some lofty standards.
So,
As to not lose too much batter to the battle,
We get back to blending the ingredients together.
Roger Robot measures each granule of sugar and salt,
Momentarily forgetting that perfection is not the goal.
Melody Bee reminds him when she takes a big breath in and blows all the excess granules of sugar into the batter without any precision.
Now we don't know how much we added.
Let's just assume it was the perfect amount.
It's about the love,
Roger.
Well,
Perfect is not the word I'd use,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
Are you sure we can't add too much love?
I promise,
Roger.
Experiment with the cookies by your heart's example and take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the sensation of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and pour the batter generously into the cupcake mold,
Allowing it to overflow just like your heart does with love and joy.
So,
None of us have to risk our hands in the heat of the oven.
Roger Robot switches to his heat-resistant hands to put each new batch in the oven and take the finished batches out.
As they come out of the oven,
Looking and tasting wonderful and love-filled,
We take little nibbles of taste tests.
Each one is better than the last and ready to be shared.
In an assembly line,
We wrap each one up and tie it with a bow or find a perfectly suited plate to present it on.
Melody Bee had an idea to include little love letters with each of the cookies and that gave us the idea to make fortune cookies.
Once we got started,
We couldn't stop baking things full of love.
It's so easy to do once you get the hang of it.
Oh,
Maybe we can make a treasure map of treats for the neighborhood to follow one day.
We could use literal breadcrumbs.
Banana breadcrumbs.
Oh,
That gives me an idea.
I have to show you all how to work some extra love into bread.
This is a special one.
Step by step,
I demonstrate how to make my grandmother's grandmother's homemade bread recipe.
We mix the ingredients and then the dough until it is a smooth mound in the stand mixer.
We take it out and gently place it in a covered bowl so the yeast can help it rise up and puff.
So each piece is light and fluffy.
After a short while resting,
We take out the dough and see that it has quadrupled in size.
We pry it out of the ball and dust it with a layer of flour.
Then comes the most important part.
The yeast worked its magic by creating little bubbles that make the bread fluffy.
But the yeast is so good at its job that it sometimes creates big bubbles that leave holes in the loaf.
So to catch all the extra bubbles,
We give the flour dough the biggest,
Squeeziest hugs we can and smoosh it back down to a manageable,
Bubble-free size.
Each little step is an opportunity to add love in whatever way you can.
You don't even have to use the same methods twice.
We allow our hearts to guide us through the recipes and in the process,
All the love and joy we have in our hearts finds its way into what we make and from there to other people.
When we've baked,
Cooked,
Poached,
And blended everything we had in the kitchen,
We can finally sit down to rest.
Filled with sweets from a day of taste testing,
I put on a pot of chamomile tea for us to sit by the fire while the last loaf of bread is baking.
Did I ever tell you about the time a song found its way into a lasagna I made?
Oh,
I remember this.
Tell us again,
My dear.
When a new neighbor moved in across the street,
I wanted to welcome them with a homemade lasagna.
So,
I got to work making the noodles from scratch,
Chopping,
Prepping,
Baking everything While I was simmering the tomato sauce,
One of my favorite big band songs trumpeted into my ears.
It was like the biggest big band band was right here in the kitchen.
I was bopping along,
Layering the cheese and the noodles,
Adding in oodles and bunches of love,
Just singing my song to myself.
Well,
I know this method of making food with love works because,
Wouldn't you know,
When the neighbors returned the dish after finishing it,
They said that that very song was stuck in their heads for days.
They had never listened to big band before,
And now it's one of their favorites.
We bonded over our shared love of lasagna and big band at the door.
So,
Your love finds its way into what you make and maybe a song or two.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be celebrating New Year's Eve.
The house looks wonderful with all these decorations,
My dear.
Thank you,
Mr.
Honeybee.
How did you get those sparkly streamers all the way up there on the ceiling?
Did you jump really high?
The ceiling is so high up.
Oh,
I should have known.
It took some teamwork.
I don't have these wings for nothing.
Thanks for all your help,
Melody Bee.
Let's finish up before our little Honeybee arrives.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Wrapped in your warmest coat,
Walking the last few steps up to our front door to knock.
A chilly nighttime breeze swirls around you as if sent by the twinkling stars.
You look up to watch them sparkle before all of us open the door.
With our New Year's Eve celebration hats and whistles on and ready to go.
Happy New Year,
Little Honeybee.
Not quite yet,
Melody Bee.
We still have,
Let me see,
A few more hours until the New Year.
Happy almost New Year.
We're closing the year out right,
My little Honeybee.
Your favorite spot in front of the fireplace is waiting for you.
Here,
Let me take your coat.
I'll put it with your mittens and earmuffs,
Which we will definitely need tonight.
Together,
We sit around the fireplace,
Snuggled in piles of blankets,
Sipping tea and hot cocoa,
And remembering all the wonderful time we've spent together this year.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose and the warmth of the roaring fire on your cheeks.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and let yourself sink heavy into the comfort of the blankets and love that surround you.
When you think about it,
We've had an incredible year,
Haven't we,
My dear?
We're just so,
So,
So lucky to have our little Honeybee here with us,
Making all of our adventures what they are.
Do you have a favorite,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Oh,
Goodness.
I don't even know where to begin.
How could I choose?
Remember that time we followed the mysterious pawprints and found the lemurs?
Do you mean the blue-eyed,
Winking raccoon monkey?
Yep,
That's the Melody Bee name for them.
Oh,
What about when Mr.
Honeybee made us our very own jetpacks?
That was so much fun.
Or when we found out that the oak tree branches could fly?
And then when Barry Beaver stopped by to tell us that?
Way after we figured it out.
You know,
That beaver always gets me.
Or when you built the bestest robot the world has ever seen?
How could we forget that?
Hello,
Roger Robot.
You got my note?
I did.
Thank you for letting me finish my power cycle.
That's when I get all my best ideas.
Like robot dreams?
Roger Robot goes on to detail the multiverse theory that our universe may not be the only one,
Which means that we can find infinitely more adventures.
Melody Bee brings us all back down to Earth,
Recollecting the challenging but satisfying harvest she had this year.
Artichokes.
Difficult,
But delicious.
And worth the work.
They grow on these long,
Skinny stems after what seems like forever.
And the ones you don't harvest turn into big,
Bright purple flowers.
They're so pretty.
I was kind of proud of myself for growing them this year.
What are you most proud of,
Mr.
Honeybee?
Hmm.
Roger Robot is one of my greatest accomplishments.
I was so nervous for the reveal that was rather sprung on me.
Whoopsies.
We just didn't know what you were up to.
But we knew it was good.
And it was.
What are you talking about?
We'll tell you later,
Roger.
It's a long story.
You don't remember meeting us for the first time?
Remember?
Me and little Honeybee were camped out in your cubby.
Vaguely.
That one seems to be buried in the hard drive under lots of multiverse stuff.
And,
Uh,
World domination.
What?
I mean,
Uh,
Puppy videos.
I meant puppy videos.
Anyways,
Uh,
Continue.
What are you most proud of this year,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
We've gone on so many adventures.
And I've written so many stories inspired by them that it's impossible to choose.
But,
Luckily,
I don't have to.
For me,
It's like all of our time together mushes together into one never-ending,
Always-expanding.
.
.
Multiverse?
Kinda,
Yes,
Actually.
It forms into a sort of multiverse that continually makes me proud.
I feel like I say that every year.
But I also mean it every year.
That means there could be other usses sitting around a fireplace just like this one,
Recounting their adventures,
Hmm,
At this very moment.
I bet multiverse Mr.
Honeybee is gonna get up for another cup of hot cocoa right now.
Anybody want a refill?
Oh,
I do.
Me too,
My dear.
Harold reminds us that it's almost midnight,
And that means it's almost time for the Honeybee neighborhood's New Year's Eve celebrations up at the oak tree.
We gather our jackets,
Mittens,
Earmuffs,
Hats,
And scarves,
And head out to the tree at the heart center of the neighborhood.
As we walk,
Think about all that you've done this year,
My little Honeybee.
All the ways you've grown,
Been challenged,
Overcome those challenges,
And found new ones to work on.
What about all the fun you've had,
And the things you've discovered?
Take this special time under the twinkling stars to reflect and be proud of being exactly who you are,
The most perfect you.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Bring your attention to the soft,
Continual beat of your heart that grows with love and joy each and every year.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth,
And feel the sensation of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times at the bottom of your breath.
When you take another breath in,
Let it be the inspiration you need to continue on your way,
Becoming stronger,
Smarter,
Kinder,
And more imaginative.
When we get close to the big hill with the oak tree,
Roger Robot can hardly contain his excitement.
He rolls as quickly as he can up the hill,
Which activates both Melody Bee and Harold.
Together,
You race to the top of the hill.
Each of your footsteps sinks into the squishy grass,
But you are very excited to see what we will be celebrating at the very top.
You run,
Run,
Run as fast as you can.
Right foot,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left foot.
At the top,
Mr.
Honey Bee and I meet you at what looks like a flagpole,
With a big white flag waving in the slight breeze that's picked up.
Mr.
Honey Bee walks right up to the flagpole,
Reaches his arms up,
And begins to lower the flag down.
Down with the flag comes a metal box with what looks like a long straw coming out of the top on one side.
As it comes down closer to the ground,
You and a flock of neighbors gather around before taking your seat on thick cozy blankets that lay on top of sleeping bags.
I join Mr.
Honey Bee at the flagpole and help him unhook the metal box,
Which is much bigger than it looks when it's up high.
Melody Bee and Roger Robot join you on the warm blanket,
And Harold curls up for a snooze in your lap.
Did you submit anything this year,
Roger?
Only my biggest transformation yet.
I successfully transformed into a helicopter this year.
Wow,
That's incredible.
I knew you had it in you.
What about you,
Melody Bee?
I submitted my Venus flytrap propagation.
The garden officially has its first carnivorous plant.
What are you talking about?
That sounds terrifying.
Only if you're a fly.
You hear people filling in behind you and look back to see how full the little park at the top of the hill is.
There are people sitting on blankets for as far as you can see.
Babies and puppies alike are snoozing in the laps of their loved ones,
But everyone from the youngest toddling toddlers to the oldest walking with canes have shown up to see this celebration.
When it seems like everyone has arrived,
Mr.
Honey Bee addresses the crowd.
Hello,
Neighbors!
I know you're just as excited as I am to hear what we've been up to this year,
Right?
Good,
Because we have a full box over here,
So I know you all have been busy.
Okay,
Without further ado,
Let's get started.
It'll be midnight before we know it.
One by one,
Mr.
Honey Bee and I take out little slips of scrap paper.
Some are newspaper cuttings,
Others are the backs of wrappers,
And still others are even more random materials that people have found to write on.
We read what's written on these scraps to a crowd of cheering neighbors.
You listen to a few until you recognize Roger Robot's submission when it comes up next.
And our very own Roger Robot,
Everyone's favorite robot,
Has successfully transformed into a helicopter.
He says it's taken most of the year to do,
And he is incredibly proud of that accomplishment.
Let's give a round of applause for Roger,
Everyone!
As a celebrity stepping onto a stage,
Roger Robot stands up tall and takes three big bending bows so everyone through the park,
Even at the bottom of the hill,
Could see him.
Aw,
Shucks.
Thank you,
Everyone,
Thank you.
Thank you so,
So much.
You are far too kind.
But right,
It is quite noteworthy.
Thank you,
Thank you.
We get to Melody Bees,
Mr.
Honey Bees,
As well as mine.
Each of us has submitted one thing we accomplished this year that we are most proud of,
And here in the Honey Bee Neighborhood,
We call this celebration our Time Treasure.
We're digging for our treasure in the time of last year,
And,
As you might guess,
There's quite a bit of treasure.
Throughout the year,
People of the Honey Bee Neighborhood deposit what they're proud of in the metal box and raise it back up with the flag.
So,
The white flag you can see from wherever you are in the Honey Bee Neighborhood,
You also see what the neighbors are most proud of.
At the end of the year,
We open it,
Collect them all,
And take the most important time of all to celebrate each other.
I continue reading the Time Treasure until the very last one,
Which coincidentally landed exactly on the strike of midnight.
The crowd on the hill looks up to the sky to see a beautiful bouquet of color and light burst against the backdrop of twinkling stars.
Harold bolts awake excited that he didn't miss his favorite part.
He loves to watch the fireworks,
But the big noises are a tad scary to him,
So he stays in your lap with the protection of your loving arms around him as we all watch the fireworks show together.
I mean,
They're okay.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the nighttime air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs and expanding out your chest.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and feel the bursts of joy sparkling within you as the fireworks do in the sky.
As the celebrations wind down and the crowd dwindles,
Mr.
Honeybee walks back up to the flagpole to raise the Honeybee neighborhood flag and the time treasure back up.
You go back and forth with yourself as to whether you want to put something right now or maybe later tomorrow on your way home.
The metal box raises up off the ground,
Pulled slowly back into the sky.
You can feel the second slip by,
Knowing that you are very proud of yourself and that you already have a bit of time treasure to add,
But maybe not now,
Maybe later.
Harold looks up at you,
Somehow knowing exactly what you're thinking.
He runs to my purse to get a scrap piece of paper and a pen for you to write one thing you're most proud of yourself for.
It can be anything.
It can be like Harold from last year.
Tonight we celebrated Harold finally overcoming his instinct to chase squirrels and is now glad to call them friends.
It took him a long while to not follow after them with laser-like focus each time they scurried,
But over time it got much,
Much more manageable,
And then it became easy.
Now he and the squirrels even play tag in the backyard,
So it's the best of both worlds.
Whatever you're proud of,
My little honeybee,
Take a moment to write it down,
Fold it up,
And save it like the time treasure that it is.
Next year you'll be so grateful to remember this moment when you build on what you were able to accomplish this year.
And no matter what,
My little honeybee,
You will always,
Always be the most perfect you.
Always remember Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today in the honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be having our annual Easter egg hunt.
This year I'm going to gather one million Easter eggs.
How are you going to carry them all,
Melody Bee?
I've got help from a little furry friend.
I taught Harold how to carry my Easter egg basket in his mouth.
We're an unstoppable duo.
You two make a great team.
Melody Bee,
Have you seen Mr.
Honeybee?
He was in the garage earlier.
I'll go get him.
I can't wait to see what happens during this year's Easter egg hunt.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here driving through the neighborhood in our honeybee golf cart on your way to our house.
It's a warm,
Sunny Easter morning and you couldn't be happier.
For no reason in particular,
You feel a smile come across your face so you press down on the gas to go a little faster to feel the wind rush by.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth.
You come up to a stop sign at a turn that's just two more turns away from our street.
From here,
You flick on the blinker before you turn onto the street where you will turn into our little slice of the neighborhood.
You are a very conscientious golf cart driver so you're sure to stop and look both ways.
One side is clear.
All you see is sunshine sparkling off the dew drops still on the grass and in the trees.
On the other side,
Though,
You see movement in the tall bushes that line the sidewalk.
It catches your eye because it seemed much too big for a squirrel.
You wonder to yourself if a neighbor's dog or cat got out,
Then gasp,
Thinking that it could possibly be Harold.
Before you can think another thought,
The bushes move again and out hops someone familiar in an Easter bunny costume.
Looking closer,
You feel the smile come back across your face as you realize that it's Mr.
Honeybee who is hopping into the bushes wiggling around in there then nearly falling out of them all in a white bunny costume complete with floppy ears and a cottony tail.
You see him,
But he didn't see you see him.
This has now become an opportunity so as not to interrupt whatever it is he's doing,
You reverse the golf cart back down the street from where you came and park it out of sight.
From there,
You slink along the bushes trying to get as close as you can to Mr.
Honeybee.
When you get close,
You can hear Mr.
Honeybee talking to himself as he wades into the bushes and falls back out over and over.
I do not know how he does this.
Those big thumping feet must help.
These feet don't help me.
I trip over these feet.
I can't believe I'm wearing a tail and all these eggs.
There are so many.
How do you do it,
Easter Bunny?
When Mr.
Honeybee dives back into the bushes,
You know this is your chance.
You slink back behind the bushes and line yourself with where you think he might jump next,
A few steps down from where he jumped in last.
You crouch down into the bushes and sit as quietly as you can.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose to quiet yourself both inside and out.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth as Mr.
Honeybee comes into view in between the leaves.
Then,
Pounce.
It's just you,
My little Honeybee.
Oh,
My goodness.
You scared me for a second there.
Wait.
Did you scare me on purpose?
Wow.
Have you been working with Melody Bee?
You got me good.
Yep,
You got me good.
Without saying a word,
You ask all the questions you have for Mr.
Honeybee with your face,
And he suddenly remembers he's supposed to be on an Easter stealth mission that pulls on his ninja experience.
Oh,
I gotta go.
You did not see me.
Mr.
Honeybee hops away in his Easter bunny costume with brightly colored Easter eggs spilling out of his pockets.
The last you see of him,
He's diving into the bushes and rustling around.
You wonder if maybe this has something to do with his up-and-coming ninja academy,
But realize it could literally be anything.
You just never know what's going on in the Honeybee neighborhood.
Not wanting to leave the golf cart so far away,
You run back and drive to our house,
Giggling to yourself the whole way and catching glimpses of Mr.
Honeybee hopping along the bushes.
Hello,
My little Honeybee,
And Happy Easter.
Oh,
And Happy Easter.
Mr.
Honeybee,
Little Honeybee is here.
He's not home,
Melody Bee.
Huh?
Where'd he go on Easter morning?
We have important business to attend to.
I'm not sure.
Maybe he had some errands to run.
Errands?
Nonsense.
Is he outside playing a trick on me?
Mr.
Honeybee,
You're not going to be able to scare me back.
I'm unspokeable.
Mr.
Honeybee?
Melody Bee buzzes around the porch,
Under all the furniture,
And into the backyard,
Sure that Mr.
Honeybee is out here trying to jump scare her.
You look back down the street where we both see a familiar cottony tail poking out of the bushes.
Just before you reply,
To Melody Bee's wondering with an answer,
I intervene to stop you from spoiling a rather important surprise.
Let's head inside and finish decorating our eggs,
Melody Bee.
Mr.
Honeybee is just getting a few things.
He'll be back soon.
I promise he's not trying to scare you.
Highly suspicious,
But okay.
Come on,
Little Honeybee.
We have so many eggs to paint with watercolor that we made out of beets and carrots and spices.
On the kitchen table,
Draped with a white cloth that is just as painted as the eggs,
There are rows of carefully decorated eggs drying neatly placed in the bottoms of cartons.
You sit down to see all the colors and paintbrushes we have out and get to work creating your masterpieces.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and paint the final touches on your first Easter egg that has been expertly decorated.
Mr.
Honeybee comes in the door just as you reach for a second egg.
My little Honeybee,
You're here.
Oh,
My goodness.
It's been so long since I've seen you.
My,
How long has it been?
Hasn't it been,
Like,
A week?
Feels like forever.
What are we doing?
Painting eggs?
When Mr.
Honeybee pulls out his chair to sit down beside you,
We both see that same cottony white tail still attached.
We look to Melody Bee,
Who is pleasantly distracted from seeing much of anything but the color selections,
And inconspicuously figure out how to tell Mr.
Honeybee without saying anything.
Let's get an eight going.
All right.
I think I'll do blue and yellow.
Perfect Easter colors.
So how are you,
My little Honeybee?
You try to talk to Mr.
Honeybee with your eyes while your voice answers his question.
All of your frantic motioning toward his tail is not doing the trick and confuses Mr.
Honeybee as to the messaging.
We all silently try to communicate,
And the silence is what gets Melody Bee's attention.
Everyone,
Great work!
The Easter Bunny is going to be so proud.
So proud.
Hey,
Melody Bee,
Can you go check the mail,
Please?
I think I just heard footsteps at the door.
On Easter?
The Easter Bunny does all deliveries on Easter,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
The Easter Bunny contracts out sometimes.
It's a lot of work.
The Easter Bunny is all powerful.
He's a rabbit that lays eggs.
The only creature on his level is the.
.
.
Platypus.
We know,
Thanks to all of your wonderful platypus trivia.
Thank you for that,
By the way.
But yes,
Maybe a very special delivery today from the mail person.
Is this a surprise?
Oh my goodness.
Come on,
Harold.
Maybe it's a singing telegram.
With Melody Bee far enough away at the front door,
We can finally whisper to Mr.
Honeybee who quickly removes his tail.
Oh,
That's what you were trying to say.
Thank you.
The Easter Bunny is all powerful,
But he broke his toe.
I received a transmission from him early this morning that he tripped right over one of his own eggs.
Oh,
Such a shame.
But I was,
Of course,
Able to help.
Here she comes.
Here she comes.
Was there anything out there,
Melody Bee?
No.
No singing telegrams or special deliveries.
Not yet,
At least.
Maybe later.
Maybe.
We continue painting the remainder of the eggs in bright watercolors that have splashed a kaleidoscope of color onto the tablecloth.
You are very happy with your decorations as you line them up to see how they all look together.
All of your favorite colors are there,
Expertly designed with dots and squiggles and little connected triangles without bottom lines.
Melody Bee has done a portrait of the Easter Bunny on one of the eggs to commemorate her second favorite creature.
Roger Robot wheels into the house to let us know that the time has very much gotten away from us since we were having so much fun.
It's Easter egg o'clock and I have come prepared.
Roger has to wheel all the way around the table and into the living room for us to see the enormous basket made up of smaller baskets that he has come prepared with.
I have been compiling data on Easter egg placement and have arrived at a very precise estimate for not only how many eggs there should be but also the GPS coordinates of where to best hide the eggs.
I should be able to fill up this basket right here if my calculations are correct,
Which of course they are.
Oh my goodness.
That is the coolest Easter basket.
Are there two of them?
I have quite the nose for Easter eggs,
You know.
Oh,
I almost forgot.
Here's yours.
What?
I'm going to fill this up in a millisecond or whatever's smaller and faster than a millisecond.
A nanosecond?
Exactly.
Not nearly enough seconds.
But it's bee-sized.
You are underestimating my strength and my will.
We'll have our baskets too,
Melody Bee.
We can carry each other's if needed.
Come on,
Let's go.
There are plenty of eggs out there.
I mean,
There are likely many eggs out there,
According to Roger Robot's statistics.
Along with the neighbors and with a sizeable basket hanging from the crook of your arm,
We begin the neighborhood-wide egg hunt as if it were a race.
Harold places himself on your team and sniffs out the first egg,
A big orange one that's hidden on the porch.
You and Harold scour the porch when no one else thought to and come up with ten more eggs,
Each brighter than the last.
By the time you walk out into the sunshine,
Merely jogging after a very excited Harold,
You already have the bottom of your basket filled.
Look your head all the way to one side until you can feel a little stretch.
Down there you see tons of bushes,
Tall grasses,
And little nooks and crannies on neighbors' porches that could be the perfect hiding spot.
Then look your head all the way to the other side until you can feel a little stretch there,
Too.
On that side you see still more bushy flowers,
Mailboxes,
And plenty of cars parked in their driveways.
Harold leads the way,
Galloping through the sunshine and sniffing out egg after egg until you've filled up your whole basket.
At that point you need to share baskets so you find me and Mr.
Honey Bee and fill up our baskets with eggs,
Too.
Melody Bee filled up her basket just as quickly as she suspected,
And now both of you are on the lookout for Roger Robot and his enormous basket.
You finally find him down the street holding a still-empty basket and showing every ounce of his technological frustration.
None of these predictions are correct.
How can that be?
It's like someone else has hidden these eggs,
Someone completely different than previous Easters.
Hmm.
Weird.
It is weird.
I think we have a mystery on our hands.
Something is wrong.
Very wrong.
Maybe it's your statistics.
Maybe.
How could you say that?
How could you even muster the words?
I said maybe.
Nonsense.
Maybe something is off with the Easter Bunny.
He's getting a little older.
Maybe he's not laying eggs like he used to.
Do not speak that way about the world's most powerful creature.
He's perfect.
Oh,
Look.
There's an egg right there.
Isn't that one of your coordinates,
Roger?
Look.
And right there.
And right here.
Hmm.
Something is going on.
But I have eggs to find,
So someone else should get right on that.
Roger,
We need your basket.
As you and Melody B follow after Roger Robot,
Continuing to find eggs before his calculations do,
Mr.
Honeybee and I smile a little smile to ourselves.
My dear,
Did you re-hide the eggs along Roger Robot's coordinates?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Good one.
Low five.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special,
And you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be celebrating,
Preparing for Halloween.
Have you noticed anything peculiar happening in the neighborhood this week,
My dear?
Hmm.
I have noticed lights flickering on and off in the backyard every night.
That seems a little spooky.
Well,
I've got an explanation for that.
I showed Melody B how to play flashlight tag,
And now every time Harold goes out,
She plays flashlight tag with him.
I've even attached a little flashlight to Harold's head.
Those two have been having so much fun.
I am the undisputed,
Uncontested,
Unequivocal queen of flashlight tag.
Oh,
I almost forgot.
Mr.
Honeybee,
Did you pick up those pumpkins this week?
I sure did.
Let's set them up on the porch for when our little Honeybee gets here.
I'll go grab them from the trunk.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here strolling through the neighborhood on a cool autumn afternoon.
The sun is shining what warmth it can,
But the first chills of winter are swirling through the air.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs,
And expanding out your chest.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth as you continue on your way to our front door.
A couple houses down from us,
You see a for sale sign swinging in the cold wind and a red sold sign slapped over it.
The vacant lost grass makes the lonely house seem even more desolate.
You look it over as you pass by,
Wondering how much the neighbors are loving their new house around the block and when the new neighbors will move in.
Before you get to the next house,
A shadowy something catches your eye from a small second story window,
Which you now notice has a light on inside.
Staring at it,
You wait for the shadow to reappear,
But it doesn't.
You definitely know you saw something,
But that something does not appear to be there now.
Feeling a little spooked,
You run all the way to our front porch and knock on the door before you look back at the second story window again.
Mr.
Honeybee's voice on the other side reassures you and you giggle a little giggle at yourself for being needlessly spooked.
Hello,
My little honeybee.
It's chilly out tonight,
Isn't it?
We'll need to bundle up for our evening walk.
Come on in.
Let's get you out of that cold.
Dinner is just about done.
Harold meets you at the door and escorts you inside with a happy little trot,
Always excited to see you.
Melodybee joins us at the table for dinner after she finishes plotting her winter garden.
Hungry.
I've been working out there since sunrise.
The winter squashes are shaping up nicely.
You wouldn't probably guess it,
But winter squash are not grown in winter.
Did you know that?
I did not know that,
Melodybee.
Why are they called winter squash?
Because their thick skins allow them to keep growing from summer through winter,
So you can start harvesting them in autumn.
Interesting,
Right?
Whatever they're called,
They're delicious.
Mr.
Honeybee finishes his butternut squash soup and leaves the charge for washing dishes.
Did you see that the house a couple doors down finally sold?
We're going to get new neighbors.
Aww,
How fun!
We have the best neighbors.
I wonder what flowers they'll plant.
You join them at the sink where an assembly line has formed.
Melodybee hands Mr.
Honeybee a dish.
He washes it in the sudsy water and hands it to you to dry with a soft,
Warm towel that just came out of the dryer.
As you dry dish after dish,
You tell us about the kind of spooky shadow you saw in the upstairs window.
But together,
We laugh it off.
Maybe it was a glare of light or even just your big imagination playing Halloween tricks on you.
I'm fairly certain no one lives there now or even should be inside.
The new neighbors are scheduled to move in next week.
I know for sure no one lives there now.
And actually,
No one has been there for at least a month or so.
I pruned their flowers and trimmed their grasses so they wouldn't take over.
I think the house is completely empty.
My little Honeybee has a fantastic imagination and is very observant.
It was probably just an outside shadow that looked like it was coming from the window out of the side of your eye.
Yeah,
That happens to me all the time.
Harold,
Come here,
Boy.
You ready to go for a walk?
Harold's nose leads our walks like it always does.
And today,
He leads us right past the supposedly empty house.
As we walk by,
You lift your hand to point out the upstairs window with the light on only to realize that it's no longer on.
It's not even flickering.
The light you were sure was on before we had dinner was not.
And as the sun continued setting,
The empty house looked even emptier.
Puzzled,
You continue walking,
Trying your best not to think about it anymore.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Allow the coolness of the crisp autumn air to clear your mind of all concerns as your chest expands with your breath.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and crunch the fallen leaves from the trees under your footsteps.
We do our usual loop around the neighborhood that brings us right back to the empty house a few doors down from us.
This time,
When we return,
Just moments later,
There is a light on.
Just as you thought you saw before,
A little second-story window is lit up in a warm hue.
Wait,
The light is on.
Look!
Wasn't it on before?
No,
It wasn't.
All the lights were off.
But no one lives there.
And the light wasn't on before?
And the new neighbors aren't scheduled to move in until next week.
This can only mean one thing.
We need to run home and hide under the blankets until Halloween is over?
No,
Melody B.
We need to knock on the door.
I'm sure there's an explanation for this.
Maybe a new neighbor is getting their new house ready.
Oh,
Yeah.
I'm sure that's what it is.
We visited this house several times before we moved in.
Exactly.
Come on.
There's nothing scary.
Harold and I will wait back here,
Where there aren't any lights turning themselves on and off,
Or shadows,
Or spooky empty houses.
There's a shadow right there,
Melody B.
What?
It's from the streetlamp.
Oh,
Goodness.
All right.
Let's stay together and go home.
No.
It'll only take a minute.
Come on.
Together,
We make our way up to the porch of the empty house to knock.
Melody B.
Flutters by and asks us a whopping four times if we should turn back.
Deciding not to,
You bravely knock on the door,
Wanting to settle this once and for all.
When we don't hear anyone or anything inside,
We press our ears against the door for a better listen while Mr.
Honeybee walks the perimeter.
Harold perks his ears up trying to listen as well,
And when he hears nothing,
We join Mr.
Honeybee in front of a big window further down on the porch.
Don't look like you're trying to look in.
Just kind of turn sideways and look.
Do you see anything?
I see nothing.
But maybe that's because I'm looking out of the side of my eye like this,
Mr.
Honeybee.
No,
I don't see anything either.
From either side.
I think we can just look in.
The house is clearly dark and empty,
Except for that light.
I wonder if someone accidentally left it on,
But we just didn't see it before.
Then how come it was off when we left for the walk?
I don't know,
But we should do the neighborly thing and turn it off for them.
Let's try the door.
No,
That will qualify us as nosy neighbors.
We should just go home.
We're so close.
I'll try it.
The door practically opens itself in Mr.
Honeybee's hand,
And he retracts it back as if he's a little spooked.
Mr.
Honeybee and I peek our heads in to find that,
Just as we suspected,
The house is completely empty and almost completely dark.
Using the last little bit of sunlight that paints the sky in deep shades of pink and orange,
I walk into the entryway and reach back for your hand to follow me.
Melody B hides in Harold's fur,
Convinced that something is going to jump out and scare us,
But nothing does.
Instead,
Melody B accidentally tickles Harold with her buzzes,
And he takes off running through the empty house.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Let all that you feel,
Be it laughter,
Fear,
Curiosity,
Or nervousness,
Wash over you and pass through you like the wave it is.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and walk between Mr.
Honeybee and I as we make our way into the darkened kitchen.
I guess the house is really just empty.
And you know what?
That light might be flickering on and off because it's about to go out.
Oh,
That's true.
Light bulbs act wonky like that when they're about to go out.
Ha ha.
I bet that's what it is.
See?
Nothing to worry about.
We should turn it off,
Though,
So it doesn't pose a safety hazard and waste electricity.
I'll go turn it off.
We follow Mr.
Honeybee and Harold up the stairs,
Navigating with our hands until our eyes adjust to the dark after sunset.
When we get to the top of the stairs,
We can see the room where the light is coming from,
A bathroom at the end of a long hallway.
Mr.
Honeybee walks out in front of us,
Newly confident and even more convinced there's nothing to be afraid of in this house.
He opens the door and just as quickly runs back out,
Shutting the door behind him.
Uh,
There's definitely someone using that light.
You know what?
Let's just leave them to their spooky light and we can go home.
Come on,
Follow me.
I'll buzz us right out of here.
Are you following me?
I don't feel like you're following me.
Please follow me.
Who's using it,
Mr.
Honeybee?
Who did you see?
I can't really say.
It's in the mirror.
Someone is in the mirror.
What?
Someone is in the mirror?
What do you mean?
People do not live in mirrors,
My dear.
It's not a person per se.
Is it a bee?
I don't know.
I don't.
.
.
What if it's a bee?
One that I haven't met.
How fun!
The new neighbors brought new bees?
What are you closing the door for?
I have to introduce myself.
Mr.
Honeybee tries to stop Melody Bee,
Who has distracted herself from her own fear with excitement.
She opens the door and rushes in,
Expecting to see a new friend looking back at her.
And that's exactly what she seems to have found.
Hi!
What's your name?
Tucked outside the bathroom,
Behind the cover of the wall,
We hear Melody Bee carrying on what sounds like a one-way conversation,
Picking up every other word.
She doesn't sound scared or even really excited.
She sounds curious,
Like she's seeing something bewildering,
But not spooky,
And quietly asking questions to figure it out.
My friends are outside.
Is it okay if they come in?
We take our cue to slink in the bathroom,
But first we peek around the wall,
In through the doorway,
To get our first glimpse of what will meet us on the other side.
We see a sweet smiling face of a very,
Very friendly ghost looking at us from the mirror.
She blinks her big,
Shy eyes closed when more of us pile into the small bathroom than she expects.
Harold's barks spook her back into the mirror,
Using her ghostly cloak of invisibility to hide herself.
But soon she realizes that we are all her friends.
The more comfortable she becomes,
The more we see of her,
And that's when Melody Bee finally introduces us.
Mira smiles shyly and waves the littlest wave floating in the shiny mirror.
To passerbys,
It would look as if we were cautiously approaching our own reflections,
Laughing and waving as we do.
We ask our new friend if she was the one who turned the light on,
And then off,
And then on again.
Mira pauses for a moment before deciding that she can trust us.
She slowly proceeds from the mirror and floats next to Melody Bee,
Testing out her bravery.
When the light flickers off once again,
She disappears into the mirror like a,
Well,
Ghost.
She doesn't like to venture too far from mirrors where she feels most safe.
Once the light flickers back on,
Mr.
Honeybee can see why the light bulb is doing what it's doing.
Ah,
That's why the light's going on and off.
It came loose.
Here you go,
Mira.
As good as new.
It shouldn't go off again unless you turn it off.
Mira comes back into view to worriedly ask us not to turn off the light because she's afraid of the dark.
Not only the dark,
But also being scared and scaring people.
Every year around Halloween,
When the dark wins out over the sunlight,
She finds the best hiding spot she can to avoid everyone and everything.
This year,
Our neighbor's empty house was a joy to find for Mira.
We sit on the bathroom counter to talk with Mira for a while and conclude that we cannot leave a new friend alone in a house for Halloween.
Instead,
We ask Mira to come back to the house with us,
Where there are plenty of mirrors and,
More importantly,
Plenty of nightlights.
Mira agrees,
But hesitates to float out in the open,
Worried that she's going to get spooked when she spooks someone.
Mr.
Honeybee thinks quickly and opens a couple of the drawers before finding a long-forgotten handheld mirror that Mira can travel in.
You take it in your hand and Mira floats right in it.
We get to welcome Mira into her new home and show her all the mirrors that we have.
Mr.
Honeybee got to work right away,
Building her one of those glamorous movie star mirrors with light bulbs all around.
In solar-powered,
Of course,
So its light will never flicker.
Melody Bee strategically placed several small mirrors around the garden should Mira ever want to join her on the full moons when the backyard is the brightest.
But Mira has found that her favorite place to stay is my writing room,
Where a long vertical mirror leans against the wall.
Up in my writing room,
You always make sure Mira's mirror is shiny and clean,
So she can see out of it and so we can see her.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be celebrating Thanksgiving.
A day dedicated to gratitude,
Love,
And giving thanks.
It's important to focus on what we're grateful for,
Because what you focus on grows.
That's why I've kept a gratitude journal all these years,
As a daily reminder of all the good that surrounds us.
Yes,
Harold,
You're featured in my gratitude journal many times.
What time are our guests arriving?
Oh,
In just a few hours.
I've got to put this pie in the oven before everyone gets here.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Standing at our front door,
With your arms full of sweet potatoes and a harvest of pink apples you picked from the orchard.
With such full arms,
You struggle to knock.
Your right elbow,
Then left,
Feels the weight of the Thanksgiving feast you are carrying as you shift it from side to side,
Trying to free up a hand.
Inside,
You can hear not only me and Mr.
Honeybee,
Like you usually do,
But the entire neighborhood seems to be visiting.
You shout to us,
Hoping to get the attention of at least one person,
But the door remains stubbornly closed.
After negotiating it down to wiggling a single finger free from the potatoes and failing,
You decide to knock with your foot.
You feel a small sense of relief hearing Melody Bee's buzz on the other side and getting closer.
The weight of the potatoes and the apples against the inside of your elbows hope that she has mastered the new locks that Roger Robot installed,
So you can finally deliver this bountiful harvest.
Little Honeybee is here.
Come in,
Come in.
Let me take,
Oh,
Those look heavy.
Mr.
Honeybee?
Oh,
Let me help you with that,
My little Honeybee.
Wow,
Look at that harvest.
The apple orchard has been overflowing with apples,
And even pink ones.
Yay,
My favorite.
Thank you for bringing these little Honeybee.
They'll be perfect for the pies.
As good friends do,
Mr.
Honeybee,
Melody Bee,
Roger Robot,
Harold and I lessen the burden of what you carry by distributing it across all of us.
This makes it much easier to walk into the crowd of happy,
Smiling people that surrounds the table and fills the kitchen.
Your seat at the table is marked with an ornately decorated place setting that has your name written in delicate,
Cursive handwriting.
Even though our house is full,
There's always a seat for you,
My little Honeybee.
Like a butterfly,
You flutter from group to group,
Getting hello hugs and life updates from all the neighbors who love you like we do.
Slowly making your way to the kitchen,
You help Mr.
Honeybee and I with the final preparations before joining Melody Bee in making the table settings perfect.
Even after the flowers dry,
They are still beautiful.
I love dried baby's breath with their teeny tiny flowers.
And these arrangements last for so long.
I guess technically dried arrangements last forever?
That's probably why I like them.
When we pull the last pie out of the oven,
It's time to enjoy the feast.
You take your spot at the table,
Surrounded by your friends and family and beloved neighbors,
With Harold doing his best to be silent at your feet under the table,
Just in case any morsel should find its way to the floor.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel gratitude for all that you have swell in your chest as it expands out.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and take the first delicious bite.
Together,
Around the table,
We enjoy the feast,
But not so much that we don't save room for pie.
There's an incredible assortment,
And it's difficult to pick just one,
So Roger Robot precisely slices you extra tiny pieces of each to taste them all.
Each is more scrumptious than the last.
Harold has since fallen asleep under your feet,
Waiting for the morsel that never dropped.
With some fancy footwork,
Sliding your foot slowly out from under his chin,
You're able to get up and start the task of washing dishes.
It's easy to do with so many people in the assembly line.
Usually,
It's just us,
With me clearing the table,
Melody Bee handing the dishes to Mr.
Honey Bee,
Who washes,
And you trying to squeaky perfection.
But tonight,
There are several assembly lines branching out like a tree from the sink,
Each waiting for more dishes,
Of which there are plenty.
Once it gets dark,
It's time for the gratitude ceremony that we do every year to celebrate how thankful we really are for each other and for all who came before us.
Mr.
Honey Bee disappears upstairs,
And he calls down for me,
You,
Melody Bee,
And Roger Robot to join him.
Uh,
Team,
There are so many.
I don't think I can carry all of this on my own.
Can you come up?
Of course,
My dear.
Roger that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
We join Mr.
Honey Bee in my writing room,
Where we've prepared enough beeswax candles for every single person downstairs.
They are standing on trays that need to be carefully carried down the stairs.
One by one,
We all take the trays down to the neighbors who are anxiously waiting for them.
The last tray has five special beeswax candles made just for us.
Roger Robot picks it up and notices something different about Melody Bee's candle.
Hey,
Are those all the same size?
They don't look uniform.
More or less.
It seems to me that your candle is a little more,
And mine is a little less.
Is that true,
Melody Bee?
Mind your beeswax,
Roger.
Literally.
Hmm,
Noted.
Maybe the house is in need of some newer blocks.
Wait,
What did you say?
Oh,
Nothing.
Bickering the whole way down,
Roger Robot and Melody Bee join us holding their candles,
Which are just the slightest bit uneven,
On purpose.
And now the real celebration begins.
I strike a single match until a tiny flame sparks and light the candle I'm holding out in front of me.
The sun has set fully,
But the last remnants of purple and pink clouds fill the sky and pour their warm light into the house.
Everyone is quietly holding their candle out in front of them.
Some people have their eyes closed,
Thinking of what they are going to say,
While the smiles of others let you know they already know what they are most grateful for.
There's no way to be wrong in gratitude.
It is reliably the safest feeling to feel.
Gratitude does not project us toward the future or dig into the past to find what it's looking for,
Because it's always presently self-evident.
Something that surrounds you,
Perhaps like water surrounds a fish,
You might not even realize it's there because you breathe it in every moment.
Until that one special day that gives just the right perspective,
And the shining light from above reflects off the bubbles and the waves,
Allowing the fish to see that it's immersed in a life-giving bounty.
As I light my candle with the first flame at the center of a circle of neighbors that has naturally formed,
I say what I'm most grateful for out loud.
I am most grateful to be at the center of an incredible network of amazing people who support and love me and each other in small ways and big ways and ways that you cannot put into words.
And I am most,
Most grateful for you,
My little honeybee.
You have changed my life and more lives than you can know by just being here and being you.
From that first flame,
I light a second for Mr.
Honeybee,
Who goes next.
I am most grateful to have an ever-expanding world full of family and friends that makes life exciting to live.
And I am most,
Most grateful,
As always,
To you,
My little honeybee.
Not only are you the coolest cat around,
But your selflessness and loving nature is inspiring to me each and every day.
Mr.
Honeybee tilts his candle to yours and the warmth from its tiny flame shines on your cheeks.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the sensation of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times,
Filled with love and gratitude.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and say what you are most and maybe most,
Most grateful for,
My little honeybee.
The ceremony goes on and on and on until the fire alarm cannot contain the amount of gratitude felt and growing under a single root.
There are so many people and so much thankfulness swirling in the Honeybee neighborhood that when we move outside,
Even more neighbors join.
When we look down the street,
The tiny flickering lights of millions of candles glow like a nighttime sun.
It seems to go on forever,
And indeed it does,
Because that's the nature of gratitude.
It's endless.
When our eyelids grow heavy and sleep becomes unavoidable,
We drowsily make our way back into the house where the sweet smell of honeybeeswax candles and delicious food still lingers in the air.
We plop down on the couch with full heart and full bellies and drift off into sleep.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
There will be a championship soccer game.
Don't you mean football,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Kinda,
But don't let Roger Robot hear you mention that.
He loves to explain how the two sports came to be.
Did someone ask about football and why it's called soccer,
Too?
No,
No,
I don't think we did.
Did you,
My dear?
Nope,
Uh-uh,
Not us.
No,
No,
I was just saying that the Honeybee Hive are playing the midnight ruckus in the championship soccer game tonight,
And I'm excited to watch and cheer on the Hive.
Those ruckuses really do live up to their name,
Don't they?
I think I can already hear them coming,
And the game hasn't even started.
I'll bring us our noise-canceling earmuffs,
Harold.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Driving the Honeybee Neighborhood Golf Cart through to our house with your favorite number jersey on.
The sun has already begun to set because you are arriving much later than you usually do.
Today is a special day,
Though.
It's the day of the championship game between the rumbling,
Bumbling Honeybee Hive and the midnight ruckus soccer teams.
That's why Mr.
Honeybee,
Melody Bee,
Harold,
And I are all standing out in front of the closed garage door wearing our jerseys,
Too,
Waiting for you to arrive.
When we see you round the corner to our house,
We excitedly wave until you pull up the driveway and we can pile in.
Hello,
My little Honeybee.
Aww,
Look,
We all match with our jerseys.
It's like we're part of the team,
Or even our own team.
The Honeybee Hive needs all the help of their fans that they can get.
The midnight ruckus are a hard team to beat.
Do you think us wearing our jerseys helps them,
Mr.
Honeybee?
Uh,
Yes,
Of course it does.
It's been scientifically proven,
I'm sure.
Suddenly,
The garage door opens without any of us pressing the button.
Roger Robot wheels out to correct the record.
It has not been scientifically proven that fans,
Which I remind you is short for fanatics,
Wearing jerseys helps the team's performance.
Wearing jerseys is for the fanatics themselves to feel what humans call catharsis and a sense of belonging.
Before Roger rolls back his cubby to finish his power cycle,
He turns around with a sweet smile and a satisfied wave.
Enjoy your catharsis,
Everyone.
See you when you get back.
The garage closes as quickly as it opened,
And the house is quiet once again.
We all sit back a little stunned,
Looking down at our jerseys,
Then back up to each other before Melody Bee breaks the contemplative silence.
Well,
I'll enjoy my catharsis.
Let's go,
Little Honeybee.
With that,
You reverse down the driveway and head toward the stadium.
You can already see the bright light shining in the distance.
It gets even brighter as the sun sets and gives way to billions of twinkling stars.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest expand,
Filled with fresh,
Cool air.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out and turn on two wheels into the stadium like an expert race car driver.
We all hold on to the passenger poles of the golf cart and tilt with a turn,
Laughing at your silly antics.
Once you park,
We gather our foam fingers,
Our team signs,
And big puffy jackets in case it gets chilly and we walk into the stadium.
The lights are so bright that we think they'll keep us warm along with all the adrenaline that's stirred up watching our favorite team play.
We are ready for the championship game.
We walk up the stands to our favorite seats at the top.
Right foot,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left foot.
When we get to our seats,
We set everything up and sit down,
Patiently waiting for the game to start with our snacks.
Before we see the midnight ruckus arrive on the field,
We hear them.
We stand up to look over the back of the stands and see their purple bus arrive,
Filled with their rowdy team members.
Once the bus stops,
They do not exit in a single file line out of the door.
Oh no,
The midnight ruckus pull down windows to hop out that way,
And the windows that won't yank down on the first hug get smashed out.
They are loud and proud and have certainly lived up to their team name,
But we know better than to underestimate even the messiest of opponents.
They are excellent,
Extremely disciplined players who let off steam in the loudest way possible.
As the team members take the field,
The coaching teams assemble,
But there seems to be commotion,
As if something is wrong.
It's hard to tell with all the ruckus from the midnight ruckus,
But it looks like something's going on with the coaches.
I'm going to go down to see if everything's okay.
That's a good idea,
My dear.
They look worried.
What could be wrong?
Do you think the ruckus caused a bit too much ruckus before the game could even start?
It's hard to say.
They sure are rambunctious.
It's a little hard to hear each other over the swelling sounds of both teams and their fans feeling the anticipation of the championship game approaching.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Soften your senses and bring your awareness inward where there's only your persistent heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and sink heavily into your seat in the stands,
Rooted in place and excited for the game.
It looks like the game is about to start,
But then Mr.
Honeybee waves up to us.
Does Mr.
Honeybee want us to go down there?
On the field?
I think he does.
Harold,
You stay here with our blankets.
We should be right back.
I'll stay with him up here.
These blankets aren't going to snuggle themselves.
Okay.
Come on,
Little Honeybee.
Let's go see what Mr.
Honeybee wants.
Standing beside Mr.
Honeybee down on the field,
You look all around as the stands fill up with even more fans.
There doesn't seem to be one spare seat in the whole stadium.
The glaring lights seem even brighter when they're pointing at you on the field.
You don't hear me ask Mr.
Honeybee what's wrong,
But you do hear his response.
The Honeybee Hive team's head coach and the two referees aren't feeling well.
They try their best to get up and come out to the game,
But they're all down for the count and cannot possibly work tonight for the biggest game of the season.
The team is panicking.
I'm panicking.
They have no idea what they're going to do.
What are they going to do?
We're all wearing our jerseys,
So you know we'll figure it out.
And wait a minute,
I have an idea.
My dear,
Can't we coach them?
At least for this game.
We've been following them for the whole season,
And you basically coach them from the stands.
But they just can't hear it.
We can do this.
Hmm.
You know what?
I bet we can.
We need refs,
Though.
Mr.
Honeybee and I both look at each other,
Wondering.
Then look at you with big smiles,
Knowing how diligent and reliable you are.
Oh,
Are you thinking what I'm thinking,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Hmm.
Well,
I'm thinking our little Honeybee over here would make the perfect championship game ref.
And I know the second.
In an instant,
Roger Robot wheels onto the field,
Fully charged and ready for catharsis,
With his own jersey none of us knew he had.
I'm here.
I'm here.
Mr.
Honeybee,
You said you needed someone to make exacting,
Down-to-the-millimeter,
Calls that will determine the fate of two rival soccer or football or soccer teams?
Is that what you said,
Dear?
I said we needed a ref.
Same thing.
Who needs my judgment?
Point me to them.
Roger Robot assumes you are his partner referee,
And takes your hand as he rolls to the booth to get your ref shirts so everyone can identify you.
Donning such an important garment makes you immediately feel the power vested in this otherwise simple black-and-white striped collared shirt.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose,
And strengthen each of your muscles.
Reconnect with your strength and your focus.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth,
And release all the tension from your muscles and then your mind.
From now on,
Your focus is of utmost importance,
And Roger Robot is by your side to help.
The teams line up on the field and look to you to blow the whistle to signal the official start of the game.
You blow the whistle and look to the kickoff to begin refereeing with Roger.
The game is a good one from the start.
You run back and forth across the field,
With Roger Robot wheeling close behind.
As soon as the honeybee hive scores a goal,
The midnight ruckus scores two,
And vice versa.
No team can get ahead,
And they are locked in a tie for most of the game.
Before you know it,
There are two minutes left in extra time at the end of the game.
The midnight ruckus kicked the ball right out of bounds.
You and Roger Robot both blow your whistles to signal that a corner kick has been awarded to the honeybee hive.
Mr.
Honeybee and I huddle together before giving signals to the team.
The appointed corner kicker goes to the corner and stands before the ball.
Even the midnight ruckus and their rambunctious fanatics have gone quiet.
The entire stadium is silent.
All you can hear is the sound of your own breath,
Which reminds you to reconnect with it in a moment like this.
Take your slowest,
Deepest breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the nighttime air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs,
And expanding your chest out.
Then hold it there as if you can stop time before slowly breathing all the way out through your mouth.
Once time resumes and the silence becomes too much,
The honeybee hive player kicks the ball with just enough power.
It draws the midnight ruckus goalie far enough away from the goal,
But still close enough for another player on the team to get under the ball and head it into the back of the net.
You blow your whistle again to signal the winning goal.
And that is how the honeybee hive defeated the midnight ruckus in the championship game.
We are the champions.
We did it!
The stands erupt in both cheers and boos as the fans react.
The honeybee hive rejoice on the field,
Jumping up to hug each other in the air.
They run over to you and Roger Robot for sweaty hugs,
Then to me and Mr.
Honeybee,
Who give a round of high fives and hugs for a game well played.
On the other side of the field,
It's not the same story.
The midnight ruckus,
Already rowdy in their way,
Now is fueled by loss and the feeling of defeat.
Their coaches yell into the nighttime sky at no one in particular,
Just to process the loss.
The teammates start wrestling each other as they blame one another for the loss.
It's a lot to process,
So we give them space to process it as they do.
While we congratulate our own team in our more supportive way,
Because as we know,
It's important to be both a good winner and a good loser in healthy competition.
We won this one,
But the next one might challenge us in unexpected ways,
And that will be okay too.
Both are learning opportunities and moments to be enjoyed.
The midnight ruckus do not take our approach,
The championship game,
Nor anything else lightly.
The Honeybee Hive gather around the center of the field to say good game to their worthy opponents.
Mr.
Honeybee joins and is sure to emphasize that they really gave the Hive a good challenge and that both teams will be better because of this intense close call game.
All we could get were squinted,
Suspicious eyes,
And a loud booming ruckus on their way out.
The Honeybee Hive didn't let any sore losers diminish their satisfied feeling of solid teamwork leading to a game well played.
All the fans came down from the stands in their jerseys and lift up the whole team as if they were crowd surfing.
Together,
Side by side under the team in the crowd,
We laughed and carried them out to their bus and everyone agreed to meet for celebratory ice cream.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
It's a very special day that only comes around once a year.
Valentine's Day?
No.
Did they move Christmas?
Not since the last time I checked.
It's the single most important day in neighborhood history.
The day of its founding,
August 31st,
Also known as Honeybee Neighborhood Day.
Of course!
Harold and I just finished watching the whole movie of last year's celebration.
So many wonderful memories were made.
And I have a feeling that this year is going to be even more special.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking to our house,
Around the familiar corner you always do.
The one from which you can first see our house after your stroll through the Honeybee neighborhood.
Today,
It looks much different though.
Not only are all of our neighbors out and about at the same time,
But they are busily setting up for what is a very,
Very special day.
Today is August 31st,
Or as you and all our other neighbors in the extended world full of family call it,
Honeybee Neighborhood Day.
On this very day,
Many,
Many years ago,
The Honeybee ancestors formed together to create a place for imagination to soar and a sense of belonging to coalesce around each of our shoulders like a hug.
The permanent hug we all still feel each time we gather around a new adventure is the same one they created so long ago,
When the Honeybee neighborhood itself came to be.
As you turn the corner today,
Not only can you see the difference,
But you can feel it too.
Floating through the air like a brilliant new idea that hasn't landed in your head yet,
But is still waiting to be plucked.
Your typically solitary walk up to our house is now filled to the brim with joyous neighbors busily and dutifully preparing their small part of the celebration.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs,
And expanding your chest out,
Filled with the joy in the air.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and continue on toward our house,
Smiling a little bigger with each step and scanning the crowd for our faces.
Before you see us,
Harold,
And then Melody Bee,
See you.
Welcome to the celebration.
We're having our annual neighborhood block party today.
You're just in time to help set up.
Here,
Can you take this over to Mr.
Honeybee?
He's waiting for these.
Melody Bee hands you a box that is much lighter than it looks.
It's filled with red raffle tickets with numbers printed on them.
Harold trots at your feet as you make your way over to Mr.
Honeybee and me.
At first,
You don't notice it,
But as you approach,
You see that both of us are wearing our bee costumes,
Complete with wings and antennae.
Oh,
Are those the raffle tickets?
Perfect.
We already have people lining up.
We have the best prizes.
Here,
I'll take that.
Hello,
My little Honeybee.
It's so nice to see you,
Especially today.
We're going to have so much fun.
There's going to be a raffle,
A parade,
Some games,
And all the best summer foods.
Oh,
And this.
You,
Of course,
Need to wear your wings.
I slip a headband with springy antennas over your head and tuck it comfortably behind your ears.
Holding your head up,
You can see the little spheres at the ends of the antennas coming into view.
You throw your head back and forth to make them wiggle even more as you put your wings on like a backpack over your shoulders.
Harold also has his wings,
Antennae,
And even a stinger on.
Together,
You two set off into the beginnings of the celebration to see what there is to do.
That quickly devolves into a game of tag,
Which Melody Bee happily barges in on.
You and Harold race by the booths set up by neighbors where they showcase what they create and build.
Captain EJ is sitting up on his roof where people have climbed up to hear him tell all of his missions.
There are so many people gathered that some can't even fit on the roof and are listening from the ground,
Yelling up their questions.
Princess Powa has a woodworking table where she happily shows passerbys the birdhouses she's made.
Barry Beaver has a stack of handmade invitations inviting all the neighbors,
Beavers and non-beavers alike,
To stay at the Hodge Podge Lodge.
Yama,
The renowned Honey Bee neighborhood chef,
Is in front of her table on the corner giving out samples of her latest recipes.
You and Melody Bee stop just long enough to taste test some of the offerings before Harold continues his chase.
You can already tell today is going to be so much fun,
But you cannot sit still long enough to process how happy you are to be here in the sunshine,
Surrounded by so much love.
Melody Bee and Harold chase you into a new hiding spot behind a neighbor's tree across the street.
When you peek out from behind the trunk to see if they've spotted your hiding place,
You see that they are facing away from you,
Captivated by something in the distance.
You step out from behind the tree to see the first of dozens of parade floats slowly turning the corner.
The rest of the streets have been shut down to allow the floats to go by,
And all the neighbors who weren't out setting up now poured out of their houses to see the parade.
Melody Bee and Harold cheer for its arrival,
And the rest of the crowd gathers along the sidewalks to get a good view of them as they roll by.
When you fully step out from behind the tree,
Mr.
Honey Bee and I finally see you.
You were hiding too well.
We almost couldn't find you.
Come on.
You're going to help us drive the main attraction,
The Great Honey Bee Float.
You know how to drive a float,
Don't you,
My little Honey Bee?
If not,
It's okay.
You'll have some help.
The Great Honey Bee Float pulls up to where we stand on the sidewalk.
You crane your neck to look all the way up,
And a gigantic house-sized Honey Bee towers over you.
Melody Bee and the Honey Bee Community Garden spent all year growing the flowers that this float is made with.
It's lined with flowers called pansies that alternate in stripes of yellow and black.
I sewed together the wings which flap at the top like flags,
And springy,
Mechanical antennas sway in the wind and also by remote control,
Which Mr.
Honey Bee holds in his hand.
In the antenna,
Mr.
Honey Bee has installed a wide-angle camera to be able to capture the celebration like the best of home movies,
For us to watch and experience it all over again.
For as long as the neighborhood has been celebrated,
There is documentary footage of the fun that was had.
And last,
But certainly not least,
Roger insisted there be a stinger,
For accuracy purposes only,
Or so he promises.
When the float parks in front of you,
The smell of fresh flowers overwhelms you with its sweetness,
So much so that you immediately reach out your hands to brush your fingertips against the bright yellow flowers.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest expanding out like a yellow flower bloom filled with sunshine and delight.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and walk the length of the float,
Inspecting it with all of your senses.
Behind you,
Mr.
Honey Bee pats the side of the great Honey Bee float along one of the black stripes,
And suddenly a door swings open.
Inside,
Roger Robot sits at the captain's seat,
Driving the whole thing with a dashboard that looks like a spaceship.
Come aboard,
Everyone!
For your own safety,
Please keep your arms,
Legs,
Fingers,
And toes inside the float at all times,
Especially those pinky fingers and toes.
We all climb into the float and find seats throughout.
There is a seat right in front,
Beside Roger,
At the dashboard for you.
Mr.
Honey Bee and I take the seats along the sides with Melody Bee and Harold.
Before you can sit down,
Roger switches seats with you and takes yours so you can take his seat at the steering wheel.
This huge float is controlled by a very tiny steering wheel,
But somehow it works.
You place your hands on the wheel and Roger starts the engine.
Out the windshield,
You can see excited neighbors waiting for the parade to start.
There are floats behind you for as far as you can see,
And they're all waiting on us,
On you,
To kick off the annual Honey Bee Neighborhood Day Parade.
With that,
You lightly press the gas pedal while Mr.
Honey Bee pans the antenna cameras to capture the growing crowd's happily smiling faces.
Roger clicks buttons and pushes levers up and down to flap the wings.
The crowd cheers,
So excited for the symbol of our industrious unity to flutter on by.
You feel as important as you are while driving the float and bringing joy to those around you.
But more than that,
You feel that you are part of something much,
Much bigger than you,
And that is a feeling you let yourself get lost in.
While you slowly drive the float with Roger Robot by your side,
Mr.
Honey Bee and I are cheering you on at your back,
And Melody Bee and Harold are buzzing around the dashboard,
Trying to get a better look of everyone outside.
I cannot see everyone from here.
This will not do.
Let's go to the roof.
Who's with me?
We can wave like queens.
Roger,
Are you okay to take over driving while we go to the roof?
I think so.
My dear,
Doesn't the float have autopilot?
Oh my goodness,
What was I thinking?
It does.
Come on,
Roger.
Let's go to the roof.
Roger that,
Mrs.
Honey Bee.
With that,
Harold leads the way up a spiraling staircase that leads to the top of the float,
Where each of us takes our place.
From here,
You can see all the neighbors that have gathered from near and far to see this and you.
Your hand lifts as if it's on its own,
And you wave excitedly at everyone that cheers as the float rolls by slowly,
Winding through the streets of the Honey Bee neighborhood.
Time flies because you're having so much fun,
And before you know it,
We have driven the whole parade route and ended at a very specific spot.
We have arrived,
My creature friends.
You look over to see where Roger Robot's outstretched hand is pointing to and see that the parade route ends at the base of the world's tallest water slide that you helped Mr.
Honey Bee build.
Water slide,
Here we come.
Do we have the bubble tube for Roger?
I don't think that'll be necessary,
Actually.
Someone needs to robot the float.
Instead of,
Uh.
.
.
Nonsense,
Roger.
We have your waterproofing right here.
Now you can slide down with us.
But,
But,
But the float,
What about the float?
Float schmoot,
Let's slide.
Even the not yet waterproofed Roger Robot cannot resist.
The world's tallest water slide.
With a snap of his fingers,
Roger turns into a miniature UFO and hovers straight to the top of the slide.
The rest of us climb to the top behind him,
Rung by rung.
Right hand,
Right foot,
Left hand,
Left foot.
Once at the top,
Mr.
Honey Bee inflates an inner tube that will fit all of us.
That even includes a waterproof bubble attachment for Roger.
Before he hops into the bubble,
He transforms into a mechanical fish that will be able to swim safely inside.
If I must be submerged in water,
I will be a fish.
Aww,
I want to be a fish.
Can you transform us too,
Roger?
One does not simply transform.
It takes decades of discipline and dedicated practice to transform your mind.
Roger,
How could you have prepared your mind for decades without having been built decades ago?
That is beside the point,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Uh,
Silly question.
So you can't transform us,
Roger?
Of course I can.
I can transform anyone and anything.
Such silly questions all around.
So,
What do you want to be?
Oh,
I know,
I know.
Um,
Should I be a fish or a flower?
Imagine how fun it would be to be a flower.
A tulip.
But a fish would be fun too.
One of those glow in the dark ones.
I know.
What do you think,
Roger?
Platypus it is.
Wait,
What?
As we hop onto the inner tube that's floating on the surface of the powerful stream of water,
Roger Robot transforms us into whatever we want to be,
One by one.
Take your slowest,
Deepest breath in through your nose.
Imagine what in the world or beyond you'd like to be until you cannot take in any more air.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and transform inside a cloud of sparkle and color.
Once we're all transformed and loaded onto the inner tube,
We prepare to slide down by looking over the top of the rushing stream of water that falls almost straight down after push-off.
With no time to worry about the heights,
On the count of three,
Two,
One,
We all slide down the world's tallest water slide,
Gaining speed as we go.
You didn't realize this before,
But after it was built,
Mr.
Honeybee and the helpful hardware store beavers installed not one,
But two loops.
Oh yeah,
I forgot to mention the loops.
It'll be fun.
Hold on,
My little honeybee.
You see the loops come up ahead and brace yourself to climb even higher into the air until you are upside down.
Your belly falls on your way back down the first and then the second loop.
We gain even more speed on the way back down.
The air rushes by your ears and your cheeks are sore from smiling so big.
When we finally approach the bottom of the slide,
We prepare for a humongous splash that will bring us to a stop.
The neighbors that gathered around for this exact splash are soaked upon our arrival.
With that,
The pool party officially begins,
And everyone that can fit jumps into the pool as more and more people take their turns sliding down.
Everywhere you look,
Someone is having the time of their life.
Each of us remembers our favorite moments in the Honeybee neighborhood and enjoys sharing the laugh with our neighbor.
Do you have a favorite moment in all of our many adventures,
My little honeybee?
If you were to ask me,
I couldn't pick just one.
Instead,
I'd ball up all the moments we've shared together into one gigantic moment.
That never ends.
And I'd call that one my favorite ever.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be thinking about what is really most important.
Mrs.
Honeybee,
Have you seen my new shoes?
Aww,
Those shoes look great on you,
Melody Bee.
They look lovely.
Which size are they,
Melody Bee?
Let me see here.
It says here they are extra,
Extra,
Extra,
Extra,
Extra,
Extra,
Extra,
Extra small.
Well,
They fit my bee feet perfectly.
I love,
Love,
Love my new shoes.
The weather report isn't calling for rain today,
So your new shoes are all set to sparkle.
Oh no.
Well,
What if the weather is wrong?
What if it does rain?
I'll just stay inside today.
Maybe all days.
I don't want to get my new shoes muddy.
They're perfect.
Melody Bee,
You're so silly.
Shoes are meant to be used.
But the mud.
Don't worry,
Melody Bee.
Just enjoy your new shoes.
And you have to show our little Honeybee when they get here.
Oh,
I'll do a fashion show.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Enjoying the soft sunshine on the walk to our house.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the bright sunshine on your skin and lighting up your spirit.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and bask in it fully.
With your face tilted up to the sky,
You realize that,
Suddenly,
The sun has slipped behind a cloud,
And just as suddenly,
It has begun to rain.
Sprinkles of refreshingly cool raindrops mist your face,
And you wipe your eyes clear just as you round the corner and see us out in the driveway washing the car.
The sun and sprinkling has temporarily interrupted our morning chores,
But Harold doesn't seem to notice a bit.
With his extra-long leash tethered to the center of the front yard,
He utilizes every inch of lead to run in happy circles,
Playing in the summer rain.
When he sees you,
He yanks against the length of the leash,
Trying to get closer to you as you approach.
You run up to him with your arms out,
Expecting to swoop him up into your arms,
As you usually do.
Before you can,
Mr.
Honeybee distracts your attention and intervenes into a break.
A potentially muddy situation.
Little Honeybee,
No,
Wait,
He's all muddy.
A little mud never hurt anyone,
My dear.
Oh,
Oh,
Not true.
When has mud hurt someone?
Mudslides,
And not the delicious one.
Or when mud caked onto your mountain bike so badly that your bike was almost eaten by the mud.
Oh yeah,
But then we got those big old mud tires.
But still.
Exactly.
The charges against mud have been dropped.
Enjoy the mud if you so choose,
My little Honeybee.
You bend down in the dewy grass,
Able to pet a very happy Harold without figuring into the mud debate.
But not for long.
Harold's puppy smile fades from omnidirectional excitement to a very focused,
Mission-oriented game of chase.
You knew that look that lingered in his eye and knew what he was going to do well ahead of when he did it.
So you began to flee before he could even think about getting you.
Together,
You and Harold run in circles around the stake in the grass that tethers his leash.
Staying in that radius,
You leap into the air,
Making a game out of evading his muddy paws.
He wins the prize of a couple paw prints on your leg,
But the drizzling summer rain washes them away.
In all of your playing,
Mr.
Honeybee and I are cheering on the sidelines of the driveway,
Still holding the sponge stick and pail from our abandoned project of washing the car.
Oh,
Whoa,
Watch out,
My little Honeybee.
Here he comes.
Phew,
Just missed him and those muddied paws.
Harold is on your tail,
My little Honeybee.
You look back to look at us,
And in that quick moment,
Harold leaps up into the air.
Just about to land in your arms to transfer all of his muddiness to you.
But Mr.
Honeybee thinks quickly and with a towel outstretched,
Catches Harold in a bundle that contains the mud and barely contains all of Harold's swarms.
Gotcha,
Boy.
Phew,
That sure was close.
Now that Mr.
Honeybee is holding Harold,
I walk over to unlatch his leash from the tether.
Mr.
Honeybee is having trouble containing all of Harold's squirms.
He's not done with his game of chase,
And the zoomies have taken over.
Harold boy,
Let's calm down a bit.
We'll get you cleaned up,
Then we can play fetch out back.
How about that?
Harold won't hear any of it,
Or simply cannot hear any of it over the sounds of play blaring in his own mind.
You and I start cleaning up the car washing equipment since the rain is washing the car for us,
And you take the sponge stick that helps us clean the very top of the car in your hands,
As well as the pail of soapy water.
On our way back to the garage to put away the car washing stuff,
Our arms are full,
But not as full as Mr.
Honeybee's.
Harold wiggles one last powerful wiggle and frees himself from the constraints of Mr.
Honeybee's arms.
He flings his tiny fluffy body through the air,
And we all watch in what feels like slow motion until he lands on his paws.
Without hesitation,
He runs straight for the muddiest puddle that has formed in the grass and rolls around in it like the happiest pig in a mud bath.
Mr.
Honeybee stands defeated at the edge of the grass,
Holding a towel that suddenly becomes mesmerizing to Harold like a bull to a matador's red cape.
No,
No,
No!
Harold,
No!
Harold charges at the towel that Mr.
Honeybee is struggling to hide behind at all costs.
After a few passes back and forth through the hanging towel,
Whooshing past Mr.
Honeybee and leaving splashes of mud in his wake,
Harold loops around the car and belly flops into a second muddy puddle that has formed.
The summer rain continues to fall,
Conspiring with Harold to become even more muddy.
You and I think quickly to grab for more towels to help Mr.
Honeybee try to contain a very muddied Harold and join him in the grass out in front of our house.
We each take a towel in a corner and hold out the outstretched towel in our hands,
Attempting to get close enough to Harold that we wrap him up in a towel cocoon.
Harold,
Newly delighted,
Makes this into a fun game by darting between us.
All the commotion on the grass keeps our focus there,
And we do not see Melodybee come out of the garage wearing her brand new sparkling white shoes.
Thinking we were in the garage because she heard us all laughing and chasing after Harold,
She opens the screen door and struts her best strut out into the empty garage.
Trying to find us and an audience of admirers to see her brand new shoes,
She budges to the edge of the garage and sticks her hand out from under the covering to see if it's still raining.
The summer rain has subsided for a moment,
And now is her moment to shine,
Just like the sun that's peeking back out from behind the clouds.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose as you dart after Harold.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift as your cheeks gather into a big smile that gets even bigger.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth,
Just as you see the sparkle of Melodybee's new white shoes out of the side of your eyes.
Ahem,
Hello everyone.
Melodybee struts out into the driveway,
Paying no mind to what we're doing out here.
She is consumed by her new shoes and her fashion show,
And walks an invisible catwalk all the way down the driveway with her back to us on the grass.
All of us,
Including Harold,
Turn to look at her,
And,
Again,
Time slows down to slow motion.
Melodybee twirls around,
Basking in the glory of her gleaming shoes,
Just in time to see Harold galloping toward her.
He no longer looks like the fluffy white dog we all know and love.
Oh no,
Now he looks like a mud puddle that has come to life in the shape of a little dog.
Beside himself with excitement,
Harold wraps himself around Melodybee's legs and feet.
She's flabbergasted and cannot muster a reaction to the situation.
Beyond a single gasp,
Oh my goodness,
Melodybee,
Are you okay?
You're,
You're,
You're okay,
Right Melodybee?
Melodybee,
Frozen with shock,
Trying to process what just happened,
Stares blankly into the distance that Harold is merrily running around in.
He notices that we're no longer playing the game and looks around to see what's changed.
Not finding anything,
He finally lays at my feet,
Sprawled out and muddied in the grass,
Panting as if waiting for us to realize that we're not playing.
Melodybee?
I slowly approach her with my hand outstretched and the towel hanging down from my other hand.
I wave in front of her stare a few times to bring her back from the distance.
She doesn't respond to my wave,
But the summer thunderstorm gets her attention just before a downpour.
No,
I'll never be okay again.
I'm the opposite of okay.
Mr.
Honeybee scoops Harold up from rolling around in the rain,
And we follow Melodybee under the cover of the garage.
By now,
Harold is exhausted,
And he very much enjoys being wrapped in a towel and carried by Mr.
Honeybee.
We join Melodybee in a circle around her muddy shoes that used to sparkle so bright.
She angrily takes them off her feet,
Lashing at the shoelaces before her anger subsides back to sadness.
Harold sees how upset she is and leans himself down as far as he can to give her a few good puppy kisses on the cheek.
She looks up at him and cannot stay mad at such a sweet creature as Harold,
But she has nowhere to put how upset she is at the outcome of what should have been a fabulous fashion show.
I think I'm a little bit more okay than I thought I was before.
Wish I could stay the same for my new shoes.
Look at them.
They're ruined.
Well,
Melodybee,
What about this?
We have to give Harold a bath.
Yes,
Little guy,
It can be a bubble bath.
We have to give Harold a bubble bath anyways.
Let's give your shoes a bubble bath,
Too.
I have shoe polish and heavy-duty cleaners somewhere in these cabinets,
So we can try those,
Too.
I'm so sorry,
Harold.
I mean,
This happened to you,
Shoes.
You were so comfy and sparkling,
Clean and delightful.
Come on,
Melodybee.
Let's give it a try.
They'll be as good as new.
I will try,
But my heart will not be in it.
We'll see how long that lasts.
None of us do anything without our whole heart.
Mrs.
Honeybee,
I am not in a place to acknowledge how right you are.
I need to mope.
We understand,
Melodybee.
My little Honeybee,
Let's go get the bubble bath ready.
We'll be ready when you are,
Melodybee.
Mr.
Honeybee grabs some extra fuzzy towels and his strongest shoe cleaner from the garage,
And we head to the bathtub,
Trusting that Melodybee will join us when she's ready.
You start the bath and test out the temperature to make sure it's just right.
Warm and soothing to the touch,
With just a hint of coolness to refresh,
And certainly not too hot.
Take this peaceful moment with your hands swaying through the rising bath water to take your slowest,
Deepest breath in through your nose.
Sink both of your arms into the warmth of the water up past your elbows,
And lightly splash some further up your arms to enjoy a mini bath for yourself.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth as we gently lower Harold into the water.
Are we going to make our own bubbles today,
My dear?
Of course!
These are the biggest bubbles by far.
Harold loves bubbles!
And I love that they're all natural,
So he can chomp on them all he wants.
Once there's a couple inches of water in the tub,
I hand you the enormous bottle of Castile soap.
Using both hands,
You slowly pour the soap out under the faucet to make the most bubbles possible.
While you do that,
I mix in a bit of sugar for extra exfoliation,
And crack one of our farm-fresh eggs into the bath,
Careful to let only the egg white out of the shell.
This is a little trick I learned.
Egg whites make the bubbles stronger,
So they can grow bigger and much more fun.
Mr.
Honey Bee drizzles in some honey,
Half hoping to attract Melody Bee from her sorrows in the garage,
And half for the cleansing and restorative properties of honey itself.
Did you know that honey never,
Ever expires,
My little honey bee?
Honey that is over 3,
000 years old has been found in the tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs.
And that honey is still perfectly preserved and edible.
It's true.
There is an interesting science behind it,
Too.
Honey has.
.
.
Before Mr.
Honey Bee can finish his sentence,
Melody Bee mopes into the bathroom doorway,
And mopely finishes it for him.
Antimicrobial properties that make it last forever.
It's really bee alchemy that makes honey so special.
There's just enough hydrogen peroxide that's infused in the process of making honey,
Which I'll spare you from,
That it fights off any potential bacteria from growing.
So typically,
Anything watery that finds itself in honey will become more or less sterile.
Well,
More sterile.
Because the naturally occurring enzymes stop the little bacterial organisms from spreading.
One of the many wonders of us honey bees.
Melody Bee,
It's so nice to see you smiling,
Even if it's a little one.
Honey Bee never ceases to amaze me.
Wow.
With attention brought to it,
Melody Bee manually diminishes the smile from her face,
But acknowledges that Harold's bubble bath smells delicious.
Her smile cannot help but grow as she plays in the gigantic bubbles that have formed.
You and Melody Bee try to pick them up out of the bath,
One by one,
And hold them up to your heads to compare sizes.
The bubbles are even bigger than your heads,
Before Harold pops them.
Without distracting Melody Bee from her regained joy,
We each quietly and slowly grab one of Melody Bee's shoes that have fallen to the floor without her realizing it.
We dunk them into the bath and scrub them really well,
Getting into all the tiny nook and crannies of these tiny white shoes.
The restored gleam we achieve on the shoes gets her attention.
Aww,
They really do clean up nicely,
Don't they?
See Melody Bee,
As good as new.
Melody Bee suspiciously takes one of her shoes into her own hands and inspects them under a scrupulous gaze.
Looking at their soles,
The folds at the top,
And each of the seams.
No,
No,
It's tinged.
These are tinged forever now.
They're never going to be brand new again.
That gives them character,
Melody Bee.
Oh yeah,
Good point Mrs.
Honey Bee.
Just like my work boots,
I couldn't wait for those to be caked in mud and dirt.
It's a way to remember all the hard work I put in while wearing them.
Or like the calluses that form on the bottom of your feet,
The ones that it tickles us to remove during pedicures.
You know those,
Well,
Those are a sign of working feet as well.
Experienced hikers wear them like a badge of honor.
I have some friends that even insist on hiking barefoot because their feet won't let them slip as easily as some shoes.
Isn't that something?
Character,
Huh?
So,
I can look at these tinged bits and remember this moment.
Exactly.
I can look at these somewhat dingy,
Accidentally off-white shoelaces and remember this sweet-smelling bath.
There you go.
Okay,
Move over Harold.
This honey bath is irresistible.
Melody Bee plunges into the bubbles and emerges inside of one,
Fluttering her wings dry.
Harold jumps up to chomp it and successfully pops the bubble.
She tries to make him his very own bubble and busies herself with that instead of sulking about her shoes.
It was a good reminder for Melody Bee and for us that things,
Even precious things or irreplaceable things,
Are still just things,
No matter how much we love them.
And it's perfectly okay to love them,
But things are like vessels,
Little compartments that carry what's even more important,
Which are memories.
As soon as something has a physical form,
Gravity and all the other forces at play begin to do the work that they do in time.
Cherished memories choose to take up residence in these things,
But when they break or we lose them,
Our memories go back to their real home in our hearts.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee Today,
In the Honey Bee neighborhood,
We've set up a day of relaxation.
Absolutely nothing on the schedule today,
But one thing,
Let me check.
All it says is fun.
Let me guess,
We'll be able to find you in the hammock,
My dear?
The weather is perfect for it.
But of course,
I'll be in the hammock with my latest book.
Hammocks are for laying,
But beautiful days are for buzzing.
Wow,
It's really bright out here,
Isn't it?
I can hardly see.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Can I wear your sunglasses again?
They make me look famous.
Yes,
You can,
Melody Bee.
Here you go.
Looks like we're almost all ready for our day of relaxation in the sunshine.
I'm going to grab my book from upstairs,
Then I'll meet you outside.
I bet you can't catch me,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Oh yeah?
Watch me.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey Bee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Arriving at our brightly colored front door.
Harold sounds much further away than usual today,
Which brings you to the conclusion that we are out in the backyard.
Instead of knocking,
You walk along the porch to the gate at the side of the house and let yourself in,
Like you always know you can.
Once inside the gate,
You assume Harold will hear you,
But he's much too focused on the rousing game of tag that is going on between him,
Melody Bee,
And Mr.
Honey Bee,
Who currently seems to be it.
The fruit trees on the side of the house have grown tall,
And they shade you from the bright sunshine.
As you stroll along,
The walking path stones turns into a whimsical hop.
Right foot,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left foot.
From the hammock,
I see you hopping and wave hello as you hop all the way to the second hammock beside me.
Hello,
My little Honey Bee.
I wish I could always look up and see your smiling face surprise me.
It's so nice to see you on this beautiful day.
You lean into the hammock,
And with a final little hop,
You let it carry you fully while it sways back and forth,
Back and forth,
Slowly coming back into a gentle balance with the warm breeze.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the invigorating coolness of fresh air coming in through your nose,
Making its way to your lungs,
And slowly but surely expanding out your chest.
Then breathe all the way out through your mouth,
And let yourself feel heavy in the hammock,
Held effortlessly between the lines,
With birds singing above and sun shining through the leaves.
It looks like Mr.
Honey Bee is tired of being it.
Oh,
Goodness.
He's getting the hose.
Dear,
Remember to turn it back to the shower setting so it's gentle.
So what's gentle?
Oh,
Hi,
Little Honey.
.
.
Just as Melody Bee and Harold see that you've arrived and join me on the hammocks,
Mr.
Honey Bee hoses them down with the gentle setting.
For the moment,
They forget they were coming over to see you,
And run as fast as they can away from the sudden hose shower.
But Mr.
Honey Bee will not let them get away.
Who's it now,
Huh?
We giggle to ourselves,
And Melody Bee and Harold risk hose water to the face as they get in close,
Trying to wrangle the hose handle from Mr.
Honey Bee.
We look away just as Melody Bee attempts her secret tactic of a bee buzz to the ear.
As we chit-chat about the day we are having,
And how wonderful it is to be out in the sunshine,
We hear the sharp transition from friendly antics to a worried kerfuffle.
Oh,
My goodness.
Oh,
My goodness.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Are you okay?
Oh,
My goodness.
I'm so,
So,
So,
So,
So,
So sorry.
Are you okay?
Harold bee-lines towards us,
Asking for help,
Because something has gone terribly,
Though accidentally,
Wrong.
We bolt up from the hammocks and rush to Mr.
Honey Bee and Melody Bee with Harold.
I'm totally fine,
Melody Bee.
I'm totally fine.
It's just a little,
Oh,
Just a little,
Oh,
Sting.
Just a little one.
Phew,
That stinger is in there pretty good,
Isn't it?
Oh,
My goodness.
I'm a criminal.
I'm a criminal.
Lock me up.
That's the end of Melody Bee.
How can I call myself a BFF?
I can't.
I just can't.
What happened?
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Are you okay?
Your face is flush.
I stung him.
I stung one of my very best friends.
He's stung,
Mrs.
Honey Bee.
He needs to go to the hospital.
He's hurt.
I hurt him.
Melody Bee,
I'm fine,
Really.
I've been stung before.
Really,
It's no big deal.
What are you talking about?
No big deal?
This is the highest order of offense.
You're in pain,
So much pain that you can't even admit it.
You do seem to have some swelling,
My dear.
Let me go in and grab some apple cider vinegar and aloe vera for the skin.
When I return from the kitchen with our homemade remedy,
I return to a much different scene.
Mr.
Honey Bee's face and hand have swelled up like a red balloon.
He tries to talk as he normally does,
But his slurred speech betrays how not well he is.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
I'm so sorry,
My dear.
It looks like this was a double-header stinger.
You had one in your hand,
Too.
Oh,
My goodness.
I'm going to pass out.
Melody Bee nervously watches on while we gently hold ice packs up to Mr.
Honey Bee's stings.
To help process and ease the pain,
We slow our breathing down so we can respond to the rapidly developing situation.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Bring your awareness to the coolness of the air coming in through your nose and the ice packs in your hands.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and use your own calm to calm the entire situation.
And mostly,
At this point,
Melody Bee.
Oh,
My goodness.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
I think you might be allergic to bee stings.
Really?
I didn't used to be.
It's just me.
You're allergic to me.
No,
I'm not,
Melody Z.
My dear,
Are you having any difficulty breathing?
How do you feel?
I'm just fine.
I promise.
I would tell you if I wasn't.
Call the ambulance immediately.
More like the waa-mbulance.
And I think you need to order me,
Melody Bee.
What?
He said,
He's just kidding,
Melody Bee.
He said you need the waa-mbulance.
Do you need us to get you medical care,
My dear?
No,
No.
Just the waa-mbulance for Melody Bee.
Please call me three waa-mbulances.
I need emergency treatment.
We continue to monitor Mr.
Honey Bee and apply cold compresses to his bee stings,
And Melody Bee continues to panic.
You think that it might help if she had a job to do,
Somewhere to channel the nervousness.
So you ask her to hold the compress while you get more aloe vera.
She rushes to Mr.
Honey Bee's aid and then gets a better idea.
Oh,
Get some honey from the jar,
Little Honey Bee.
It's the most powerful antibacterial substance on the planet.
Well,
I don't know about that,
But it works.
It's the least I can do.
Wait,
No.
I'll get some fresh honey.
The worker bees just delivered a new batch of pollen from the other side of the neighborhood.
It's a new,
Even more powerful honey.
I'll go grab it.
You take the cold compress back from Melody Bee before she flutters away and try to create a more calm scenario for her to return to.
Take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Bring your awareness to the steady rhythm of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and use that exhale as a cone of calm over all of us in the backyard.
Here,
I got it.
Fresh from the hive.
There's even some of the pollen sprinkled on top for extra strength.
Ah-choo!
Whoa there.
That's quite the concentration of pollen.
That must be some good honey.
Ah-choo!
Is it too strong?
No,
Don't.
Ah-choo!
Oh,
Goodness.
It's tickling my nose.
All of us proceed to sneeze until our noses are cleared of pollen and that's when we notice the sparkle drain from Melody Bee's eyes.
She sits on the ground with her head hung low,
Devoid of any hope.
You sit down beside her with little sneezes still lingering in your nose.
You are all allergic to me.
I'm going to have to.
.
.
Where can I move to spare you from this pain?
The desert.
I'll live in the desert,
Far away,
So I cannot hurt any of my favorite people.
Feeling all of her guilt and sadness at once,
She puts on her honey harvesting suit as a barrier and comes back to help Mr.
Honey Bee however she can.
First,
She slathers fresh honey,
Free of excess pollen,
On his stings.
Then,
She cycles out the cold compresses which have become warm.
While in the kitchen,
She gets a big pot of angel hair pasta going on the stove so she can make him one of his favorite meals.
She comes back out with even more ideas,
Saying he should come inside to rest and relax.
We all stay by Mr.
Honey Bee's side to be there if he needs anything.
Before he can sit down on the couch,
She fluffs the pillows.
She gets him a big cold glass of ice and fills it to the brim with iced tea.
Wow,
I should get stung more often.
This is the royal treatment.
Don't say that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
This will never happen again.
With his feet elevated,
His favorite movie on,
A cold beverage in his non-stung hand,
And his favorite dinner on the way,
Mr.
Honey Bee is luxuriating in being surrounded by his people.
Melody Bee gently reapplies aloe vera and replenishes the iced tea while I get to work on the pasta which has come to a boil.
You and Melody Bee stay by Mr.
Honey Bee on the couch to make sure he's okay,
And Harold does his part by jumping up onto his lap.
He gives a few laser-like puppy kisses directly to the stings like a pup doctor,
Then curls up on Mr.
Honey Bee's lap for an afternoon snooze.
Melody Bee washes herself clean of all pollen,
Then gradually takes off her honey-collecting suit because with all that she's doing,
She's getting too hot.
You remind her that she's doing as much as she can,
And we're all here to help as well.
Those are exactly the words she needs to hear,
And with them,
She can finally settle into her spot next to Mr.
Honey Bee,
Holding the last cold compress on his hand.
Enjoying the newfound calm,
You take another slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift hearing Mr.
Honey Bee laugh at his favorite part in his favorite movie,
Assured that your friend is going to be okay.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and join him in the laughter,
Saying the lines you two have memorized at the same exact time.
Well,
Would you look at that.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
The swelling has gone down and the redness has faded.
I think you're going to make a full recovery.
Thanks to my wonderful nursing team.
You come over to help me with the pasta while Melody Bee,
Harold,
And Mr.
Honey Bee continue watching the movie.
Our backs are turned,
Getting plates and utensils and the finishing ingredients,
But we can hear and feel that the joy and ease of spending time together has returned.
Just before it's time to serve dinner,
We notice that it's quiet over on the couch as the credits roll on the movie.
We turn around to see that both Mr.
Honey Bee and Melody Bee have fallen asleep.
Melody Bee slumped over in perfect slumber,
Leaning on Mr.
Honey Bee's side,
Which she refused to leave all day.
We smile quietly to ourselves,
Letting them nap just a little longer.
It goes to show that one of the hazards we as creatures live permanently alongside is the risk of hurting even those we're closest to.
Sometimes we hurt people because we are so close,
Like Melody Bee today.
But if there's anything we've learned from this adventure,
It's that just as we can hurt each other in the little and big ways creatures do,
However accidental,
We can also care for each other in the little ways and big ways that matter most.
We can do everything in our power to repair the hurt and diminish the harm using all the love we have in our hearts.
After all,
That's what makes friendship the absolute joy that it is and continues to be through all the laughs,
Struggles,
And beastings.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee Today,
In the Honey Bee neighborhood,
We'll be observing the clouds and seeing… Hey,
Wait,
What's that?
What is that up there?
Whoa,
Is it floating down toward us?
Is that a big,
Giant mushroom in the sky?
It looks like a parachute,
Maybe?
It's so high up,
It's hard to tell.
Grab your binocs,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Melody Bee,
Does everything have to be abbreviated?
Time is precious,
And abbreviations are fun and useful.
Grab the binocs,
Mr.
Honey Bee,
So we can see what's attached to the para.
Oh,
Melody Bee,
Though I am curious to see what that is,
Too.
Okay,
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Grab your binoculars so we can see what's attached to that parachute.
We need your binocs to see the para.
I'll be right back.
Then we can figure out what that is.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey Bee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking the last few steps up to our bright-colored front door.
As you raise your hand to knock,
A sudden thunderclap rings out.
You look back,
And we open the door just in time to see a zap of lightning flash through the sky.
Whoa!
Did you see that,
My little Honey Bee?
This morning it was perfectly sunny and clear out.
The weather cannot make up its mind,
So I had to do a little of both.
Like when you can't decide which book to read next,
Or what dinner to make.
You read a little bit of this book,
And a little of that.
And you make both pasta and soup.
The best of both worlds,
Right,
Little Honey Bee?
Another clap of thunder interrupts our musings,
And we turn to look out for the lightning,
Counting how long it takes before it appears.
After getting all the way to 21,
We decide that the lightning isn't going to strike after all,
And we finally welcome you into our house.
As you come in,
Harold bolts out right under our feet.
Zooming between us,
He runs out to the grass,
Barking at the sky as if to beckon the lightning.
You tell that sky,
Harold.
Let the weather know how you feel.
We're kidding around about Harold,
But he seems serious in his endeavors.
So we join him outside,
Huddled around him looking up.
At first,
We see nothing.
But then,
The lightning we were waiting for finally strikes.
We clap and cheer for the marvels of the sky,
And look down to see Harold was not waiting for the lightning.
He has locked eyes with something else.
When we look back up,
We finally see what Harold sees,
A floating package,
A brown cardboard box strapped to a small parachute and falling straight towards us from airplane height.
What is that?
It looks like a parachuting box.
I know branches fly.
Our branches do at least.
But do boxes fly now too?
I can confirm that they don't.
My last shipment of lumber that was sent to the beavers at the hardware store was stalled for two whole weeks.
If boxes could fly,
That one could have flown here faster.
No,
This one seems special.
Like it's flying directly to us.
Like it's for us.
Talk about special delivery.
It's starting so high up.
Should we try to catch it?
We should,
Right?
What if it doesn't land gently and whatever's inside breaks?
We should definitely try to catch it.
But falling from that high?
It could be a bumpy landing.
Dear,
Can you go get my little rebounder trampoline I use while I write?
It's in my office,
Leaning against the wall by my writing desk.
Oh,
Good idea.
Maybe you can rebound off of that.
Then we can catch it on the second,
Hopefully gentler,
Impact.
I'll go grab it.
Mr.
Honeybee comes back with the miniature trampoline that I bounce on to help me think when I'm stuck in a story.
Together,
We line it up to where the mysterious box is parachuting in and do the quick calculus in our heads as to where it will bounce.
Take a slow,
Deep breath into your nose.
Allow the fresh air to clear your mind so you can focus on this catch.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and plant both feet into the ground with your eyes on the rebounder waiting for our moment.
Here it comes.
Is everyone ready?
It's coming fast.
Look,
I think something's wrong with the parachute.
The parachute suffered a puncture on its way down,
And now it's falling heavy straight towards the rebounder.
Since it's coming so quickly,
We all skedaddle out of the way,
Letting it fall as it may.
The package with the broken parachute whooshes by us,
Bounces off the rebounder,
And spins itself silly flying back up into the sky before it bounces in the same exact spot again on the rebounder.
At this point,
The package is unpredictable,
And we use one mind trying our best to slow it down.
The box continues its lopsided bounces on the rebounder as whatever is inside the package flops between the four cardboard walls.
With one final bounce,
The box finally arrives and crash lands in the grass.
At first,
The box stands dented but perfectly still.
Harold bravely approaches Snout first to get a sense of what could have possibly traveled to us this way.
I don't.
.
.
Do you?
I did,
While it was bouncing.
Something was clearly inside and throwing its weight around while it bounced.
That's why it was so hard to catch.
Harold sniffed the perimeter in smaller and smaller concentric circles until convinced that whatever is inside will stay in there.
The last time we got a package this mysterious,
It had acorns in it,
Remember?
We planted our very own electrified oak tree.
Of course I remember.
That was such a special thing for us to do.
The tree planting ceremony was absolutely beautiful.
Acorns are tiny.
Could this be a box full of acorns this time?
Harold approaches with less caution now,
Which quickly backfires when whatever was lying silently in the box bursts forth with a response.
So you did get my acorn?
Barry Beaver,
It's you!
In the fur,
It's me!
With a bit of a cranium headache,
I must admit.
Ouch.
I was promised a smooth landing.
We tried,
Barry.
We tried.
Not to worry.
I will take it up with the winds.
And the beaver boys back home.
Leave it to beavers to build a flight plan.
I could have helped,
Barry.
We have a new fleet of worker bees testing out their range.
I could have sent a caravan or something.
Are you okay?
Yes,
I'm okay.
It'll take more than a crash landing and a little tussle to take Barry Beaver down.
As if to scoff at his hubris,
Nature itself giggled with thunder and sent Barry to the ground,
Flattened out,
Trying his best to be invisible in the trimmed grass.
You and I each grab a paw to help him back up,
Assuring him that it was just thunder and warning that lightning will come soon,
Most likely.
The commotion woke Roger Robot up from his power cycle,
So he opened the garage to make sure everything is okay.
Having never heard a garage door before,
Barry Beaver again collapsed down into the grass,
Flattened like a pancake with his paws over the back of his head.
Is everything okay out there?
Why is there a beaver taking cover in our front yard?
I cannot take a single nap around here,
Can I?
What have you all gotten into?
Recognizing Roger's voice,
Barry peeks out from under his paws and smiles big when he sees his friend.
He jumps to his feet and then leaps over to Roger Robot for a big hug.
It's not a beaver,
Roger.
It's me,
Barry Beaver.
Roger and Barry are longtime friends that have bonded over their shared love of problem-solving and sharp edges.
Roger Robot checks out Barry Beaver's chompers with each visit to ensure their strength and even modeled his multifunctional tool hands after them.
After their embrace,
Barry smiles big and Roger shows him the scissor hands he's made in their honor.
Never cease to amaze me,
Brother Rog.
Did you get my gigantic pile of census cards?
Yep.
Mr.
Honeybee and I had to invent a counter just to process them.
But we did.
Just finished last week.
Excellent,
Excellent.
Wow,
It's so great to catch up with everyone.
Ha!
I should parachute in more often.
Or,
You know,
Swim down the river.
Beavers are excellent at that,
Right?
Any good beaver loves him some options.
It's so nice to see you,
Barry.
What brings you here to us?
And how'd you get in a box?
With a parachute?
That's an easy one.
A flying fish,
Of course.
Barry Beaver goes on to explain that a group of flying fish were passing by the Hodge Podge Lodge recently,
And a few of the beavers,
Staying overnight,
Got a couple of ideas about how they could fly themselves.
Barry,
Being one of those beavers,
Tried everything the flying fish suggested to make his stubby front paws into graceful,
Angel-like wings.
When nothing worked and the flying fish were due on their way,
They supplied him with a parachute that they gave baby fly fishes when they're learning to launch.
The lodge beavers and I did the rest of the work,
Packing me into the box and securing us to the parachute,
And ta-da!
Here I am!
Oh,
And I wanted to ask,
You got the acorns I sent,
Right?
We sure did,
Barry.
We planted one at the heart center of the Honey Bee neighborhood,
Up on that hill over there,
And the other viable seed we're making into a bonsai oak tree,
Because it likes to stay in the greenhouse and grow smaller.
Neato!
So,
About both of those trees,
They're different.
I hate to break it to you.
You're telling me.
Yes,
Exactly,
I am telling you.
I'll say it more clearly,
Do not trust them.
Those acorns,
Or anything that grows from them,
Don't trust them,
Not one bit.
They have vines of their own.
I buried the acorn,
Right?
And then the tree grew up,
Full of branches.
We gnawed a few off,
And wherever we put it,
We came back to find everything around it charred to a crisp.
I inspected it with my close,
Careful eye,
And before I knew it,
I was launched on the branch itself.
And not on purpose.
The flying fish had to wrangle me down,
Wrestle me away from the branch.
We have a few of the branches in the Hodgepodge Lodge that have to be tied down with bungee cord.
We cannot tell which oak tree branches are from that tree until they go haywire with lightning.
I've developed quite an unpleasant reaction to lightning.
Those acorns are something else,
I'll tell you.
Our branches fly too.
Well,
After being struck by lightning,
That is.
You fly on them?
Geniuses!
We do.
They're so much fun,
Once you get the hang of them.
A qualitatively different experience than flying on a shooting star,
But much less danger of running into black holes,
Which I prefer.
Well,
My friends,
You can fly your branches on over to the Hodgepodge Lodge any time.
That sounds wonderful,
Barry.
We absolutely will.
What about right now?
Now as in right.
.
.
Right now?
Now is the only real time there is,
You know?
Everything else is a figment of imagination.
Yes,
Of course,
Right now,
Now.
Not in any imagination time.
Now,
Now.
Pretty please,
There's a terrible emergency,
Which is,
Incidentally,
Why I'm here.
What?
Really?
It's been an emergency this whole time?
Oh yeah.
A bad one.
Why didn't you open with that?
Well,
I did,
Kinda.
But there's something so special about the catch-up,
You know?
Seeing friends you haven't seen in a while,
Catching up on all you've missed.
I couldn't just skip that part.
Keep it together,
Bear Bear.
You're a strong beaver.
So,
Did I miss anything?
How are you all?
Barry,
Tell us what's wrong.
What's the emergency?
Oh,
Okay.
My turn to talk.
Well,
Things aren't great,
I will say that.
Do we need to intervene?
Has there been an invasion?
An invasion?
No,
Not that I know of.
What?
What happened?
So you know those special branches you all fly on,
Oh so whimsically?
Yes?
Well,
We used others as structure support for the hodgepodge lodge,
And as the name suggests,
They are quite structurally needed and also quite turbulent.
Not a good combo.
Is there a fast-forward button?
Barry,
Can I fast-forward through this?
Oh,
Oh,
Yes.
We recently expanded the lodge.
It's nearly double the size since you saw it last.
A bit slower,
Barry.
Okay,
Here it is.
We recently expanded the lodge.
It's nearly double the size since you saw it last.
Well,
A handful of our guests have reported zappings,
And yesterday two branches flew straight up into the sky,
Right out of their structural place after lightning.
It's affecting the hospitality.
Our guests are terrified,
Aren't getting a wink of sleep.
And trust me,
You do not want to see wayward beavers on but a wink of sleep.
Vicious.
We have all the leftover hodgepodge we can muster,
Holding it up right now,
But I could really use a hand or one,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six,
That's four more from Harold.
That makes ten.
Wow,
We got a lot of hands over here.
Before Barry Beaver can count Roger's hands,
He transforms his two hands into twelve.
Plus,
Wow,
Twelve,
That's,
I need a hand,
Or twenty-two,
Please.
You have just the right amount I need.
Of course we can help,
Barry.
What do you need?
Mostly a plan,
And then bore that plan to help the Hodgepodge Lodge not collapse on all of our guests.
Hmm,
Lightning seems to be the main issue.
Specifically,
How these branches react to the lightning.
A mitigation is needed.
We certainly cannot stop the lightning from coming.
Darn,
That was the plan I brought to the table.
Is that not possible?
Not possible,
My friend.
Tall buildings and umbrellas would have been on that already if it was possible.
Okay,
I hear you.
And though it is a tough truth to swallow,
I accept it.
Do we by chance have another plan?
Roger is onto something with the buildings.
I am?
Oh,
I am.
Surely I am.
We need a lightning rod.
Oh,
Those metal things on top of tall buildings?
Exactly.
That way,
The lightning will strike the lightning rod instead of the Hodgepodge Lodge.
It's perfect.
I can call in a favor with the Beavers down at the hardware store.
They'll love this project.
Oh,
Good.
That's good.
You'd think we Beavers would be best buds,
But they don't much appreciate my style.
What with their measuring and exactness.
That's not the Hodgepodge way.
We're more of a.
.
.
Hodgepodge?
You could say that,
Yes.
It tends to leave us in these urgent predicaments more than I care to admit in this here urgent predicament.
By that,
Do you mean emergencies?
Yes,
You could say that,
Yes.
We need to update your urgency settings,
My friend.
Please do.
With our plan in place,
We rush into Mr.
Honeybee's garage and meet around the workbench where he takes out each of the tools we'll need,
One by one.
He gives us each our part to play in this urgent predicament,
And we dutifully go about it.
You're in charge of helping him unpack the miniature induction furnace,
Which will be used to melt the metal.
Mr.
Honeybee explains that metal is needed specifically because it's an excellent conductor of electricity,
Which lightning is made out of.
The induction furnace is stowed away under his workbench,
And it's much heavier than it looks.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose and strengthen each of your muscles as you lift the furnace with Mr.
Honeybee using your strong legs.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth to stabilize the furnace on its special table and let your muscles be soft and squishy to relax.
Once on,
We make sure it's at the right temperature to work with copper,
Because that is the easiest metal to melt and is an excellent conduit.
The beavers arrive at the garage to deliver enough copper for our lightning rod and a little or a lot extra just in case we want to make a fancy one for Barry.
They walk by,
Narrowing their suspicious eyes at him,
Having dealt with these predicaments of his many times before.
Hey fellas,
How are ya?
We'll catch up later,
I guess.
Bye guys.
It takes all 22 of our hands and our protective gear to make Barry Beaver the simplest,
Most efficient lightning rod we could.
Once it cools,
We hold up the long,
Straight lightning rod and Barry seems underwhelmed at best.
Is this the base?
No,
Barry,
This is your lightning rod.
This?
Doesn't it need some pizazz?
Pizazz in an emergency?
Ha,
Listen to this guy.
Since this will rest atop the hodgepodge lodge indefinitely,
We understand Barry's attention to detail that's focused on the smallest picture possible in this scenario.
We each proceed to make him a shape of our own.
Melody B creates a heart.
I make two beaver teeth as a symbol for the lightning rod.
And Mr.
Honey B makes a lightning bolt with a cloud.
What extra decorative shape do you make for Barry Beaver's lightning rod,
My little Honey B?
When we're all done with our shapes,
We now have a collection of copper shapes that have no natural coherence.
That is,
Until Roger Robot reveals his addition,
A gigantic dragon roaring up to the sky.
The lightning rod dragon will hold the heart,
Have two long beaver teeth in its mouth,
And will be under the lightning bolt with the cloud.
Use soldering your shape on as the most perfect final touch.
It's gorgeous!
Now this is a hodgepodge lodge lightning rod.
Okay,
Gotta go.
Just as quickly and chaotically as he appeared,
Barry Beaver left in the direction of the Honey River.
We got word that he arrived just in time to install the lightning rod before the next thunderclap brought its lingering lightning.
The hodgepodge lodge has been saved until the next urgent predicament.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey B believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey B Today,
In the Honey B neighborhood,
We'll be visiting the garden to see all the flowers that have bloomed this year.
Oh,
Melody B.
Oh,
Melody B.
Good afternoon,
Mrs.
Honey B.
Today,
My name is not Melody B.
You can refer to me as the GTG,
Garden Tour Guide.
Actually,
This might be a little difficult.
There are so many flowers and plants.
Is there such a thing as too many flowers?
Nonsense.
That's nonsense.
There's certainly no such thing as too many flowers.
But it is a little hard to maneuver through all of them.
Did I just hear the whistle?
Is the garden tour starting soon?
Yes,
Mr.
Honey B.
Melody B,
Um,
I mean the GTG just announced.
It's almost time for our garden tour to begin.
All aboard!
I'm going to grab my hat,
Then I'll be ready.
Mrs.
Honey B,
Please tell the GTG that I'll BRB.
Be right back.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey B will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking up our driveway on a beautifully sunny day,
Walking the last few steps up to our porch.
Before you lift your hand to knock,
The bright sunshine pulls your attention and you take a moment to enjoy the moment.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel your chest and your spirits lift higher and higher towards the sun,
Raising you up to meet it.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and turn back around just as Melody B and I open the door.
Oh,
Hello my little Honey B.
I didn't hear you knock.
Neither did Harold.
We must have a special connection.
I knew without knowing that you were out here and decided to come out the front door.
You must,
Because usually on farmer's market days,
We go through the backyard for a stroll through the forest.
But today,
You wanted to walk this way.
Aww,
What a special connection.
Hugging our hellos,
Harold finally wakes up from his nap,
Still groggy and slow moving.
As he slowly makes his way over to us,
I hand you and Melody B some tote bags we will need at the market.
Come on Harold,
Our little Honey B is here.
And today is the farmer's market.
Come on boy.
You finally get the Harold greeting you're used to and scoop him up in your arms for plenty of puppy kisses as we head out the door.
When we walk this way to the farmer's market,
We pass by the Pupple Park,
Which is Harold's favorite.
And then we simply follow the Honey River until we arrive.
And we always know the instant we arrive,
Because the most delicious aromas fill the air.
You hold Harold's leash with one hand and let the other dangle by your side before Melody B comes up beside you and links her arm in yours.
Together we enjoy an afternoon stroll in the sunshine until Harold senses that we're close to the Pupple Park.
Then he begins to pull the leash with all his might and you need to hold it with both hands.
As we walk by the fence,
Harold jumps up with both paws to greet his friends.
We wave everyone hello and goodbye,
Waiting now to come upon the Honey River.
When we do,
The sparkling water takes our breath away so we get it back with intention.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the fresh air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs and expanding your chest out.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and hook into the flow of the river.
We stroll along its banks on a pathway that was created for us to do so,
Picking up dandelions that have muscled their way through the gravel.
You and I trade dandelions and the wishes they contain until we can finally smell the market getting close.
The bountiful farm stands of fresh flowers,
Fruits and vegetables send their scents wafting on the breeze to us.
The crafters and makers out with their homemade candles and wares have their smiles on,
Ready to show us the results of their hard work.
We finally arrived at the Farmer's Market.
Love it here?
I sure do.
I've met so many good friends here and learned a lot,
Too.
Oh,
That's true.
This is where I met one of the beavers at the hardware store.
He had some rare lumber selections that I heard him over-talking about.
I made the bench in the meditation garden out of that,
And the rest is history.
That was such a lovely Valentine's Day gift,
My dear.
I'm glad you liked it,
Even if you were privy to my surprise.
It's the effort and thought that count,
And I appreciated those so much more than it being a surprise.
Good,
Because you're notoriously difficult to surprise,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
I don't know how you do it.
It's a gift.
I'll get you with a surprise one day,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
Just you wait.
The Farmer's Market is bustling with people from far and wide who gather here each week to see the selection of fresh fruits and vegetables and homemade bread loaves,
Soaps,
Candles,
And just about everything you can think of.
First up is the Apple Orchard Farm Stand.
Harold sniffs out his favorite apple,
A bright pink one,
And jumps two paws up on the low table to beg for one with his eyes.
Harold,
Do you want one of these pink apples?
What about a green one?
Pink it is.
As long as we're careful to cut the core and seeds out,
Apples are one of Harold's favorite snacks.
Mine too.
Hmm,
I'll take three honey crisp apples,
Please.
Oh,
And one of these pink ones for the pup.
We stash our apples in our tote bags that hang off our shoulders,
Which,
For now,
Are still light enough to carry that way,
Though we trust that we will find so much quality produce that we'll end up dragging our bags behind us all the way home.
We always forget to bring our little wagon.
Harold loves to ride in it when his little legs get tired,
And that's a much better way to carry our tote bags than my tired shoulder.
Remind us next time,
My little honey bee.
I'm sure we'll be back soon enough.
A sudden rustle gets our attention as we walk,
And we look over to see a farmer carrying long branches full of brussel sprouts that look like little spheres of green.
We pile some of those,
Some onions,
Carrots,
And yellow potatoes into our tote bags and begin to shift them back and forth between shoulders to distribute the heavy weight.
When our tote bags are filled up with a month's worth of meals and snacks,
We finally come to Melody Bee's favorite part,
The flower section.
She walks valiantly up to the center of the flower section with her arms outstretched and dramatically shouts to the sun,
I'll take one of everything,
Please.
She cannot resist the orchids nor the ferns.
She must give the spider plants a home and,
Oh,
Look,
The peonies are in season,
And they're pink.
She fills her arms with bundles of flowers,
Arranging bouquets for different occasions in her head before she arranges them for neighbors on the way home.
When she's exhausted herself and all of us thoroughly,
She settles onto Harold's back for a piggyback ride and muses to herself.
Imagine being surrounded by blooming flowers all day long,
Flowers that come from far and wide just to bloom near you,
And then imagine arranging them and giving them away and making marvelous displays of them.
Oh,
And then imagine harvesting their seeds for centuries so no one will ever forget the beautiful specimens that existed in our time.
Would those harvested seeds be heirloom?
Precisely,
Mrs.
Honey Bee.
I want to collect and catalog every single seed that's ever been created.
Oh,
Doesn't that all sound lovely?
It sounds like you want to have a flower shop,
Melody Bee.
Great idea,
My dear.
That's exactly what it sounds like.
A what?
What,
What,
What?
A flower what?
Speak slowly because my brain is overwhelmed.
It sounded like you said flower shop.
That's what I said.
What is that?
There are shops with flowers in them?
And florists who arrange all the flowers into bouquets,
And farmers who harvest all the flowers,
And probably the seeds.
That's a thing,
Melody Bee.
I have so many flowers already.
Between the garden at the house,
The community garden,
The neighbor's gardens I tend,
So many.
I struggle to give them all away,
And to find homes for them to be enjoyed while they're in bloom.
It sounds like all you need is a shop.
Oh,
Now that I think about it,
There's a brick building downtown that just opened up.
That could be all yours.
That could be all yours,
And it's right by the Honey Bee gift shop.
Let's go now.
Show me the way.
Melody Bee buzzes away,
Full of enthusiasm,
Before we can even show her where the building is.
We zoom back home,
Trying to keep up with her wings and drop the groceries off,
Before heading downtown to see the building.
It's everything Melody Bee imagined it would be,
And she places both of her hands on the glass to close her eyes and imagine what this place would look like,
Full of flowers.
Visualization is important,
You know.
We,
With big strong imaginations,
Of course,
Knew this to be true.
So we take a moment to pause with Melody Bee and visualize this for our friend.
Our minds,
Being the meaning-making machines they are,
Naturally bounce around ideas of our own that need to be visualized as well.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose,
Until you cannot take in any more air.
Imagine what it would look like for you to achieve one of your most deeply held goals.
Hold it in for a quick second,
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and put your visualization out into the breeze for the great mysteries of the cosmos to start churning away at.
Melody Bee's nose is pressed against the glass,
Deep in visualization,
But suddenly,
She whips around with conviction.
I should start with a farmer's market stand,
And if that does well,
Then flower shop it is.
Back home,
It's all hands on deck,
Including Roger Robot,
Who was rudely awakened mid-power cycle.
Melody Bee bursts into a small corner cubby in the garage with the excitement of a firecracker.
Roger,
There's no time to sleep.
Come on,
We need your help.
What?
Huh?
Whoa!
It takes us days and days to gather all the flowers and plants that Melody Bee needs to fill up her stand.
She diligently prunes off cuttings of certain plants and starts them in their own pots to share at the farmer's market.
You wade through the sea of blooming flowers in all of the gardens she tends,
Inspecting each bloom to find and collect the best ones,
Which you snip and dunk in a vase of water.
By the time the next farmer's market comes around,
We're ready.
Mr.
Honey Bee has set up a pulley system to deliver more and more flowers and plants should we sell out,
And Roger Robot turned out to be quite the floral arranger.
I haven't yet identified what precisely it is,
But it's as if the flowers can tell me what arrangement they want to be in.
The flowers speak.
I've never heard you talk like that,
Roger Robot.
That's beautiful.
It is.
And it's true.
About time you caught on.
Melody Bee and I take off to the market to get there well before it opens.
Mr.
Honey Bee and Roger stay in the garden to load up the pulley when needed.
And you,
My dear Honey Bee,
Will be in charge of riding the pulley system with the flowers to make sure they don't get swept up in the wind.
Hopping up into the woven wooden basket that looks a lot like the bottom of a hot air balloon,
You accept the first shipment of extra flowers since Melody Bee has already depleted what she brought.
You slowly inch across the sky,
Dangling with the flowers under a zipline until you arrive at the farmer's market with us.
Hordes of people are waiting for their flowers,
The prettiest flowers they've ever seen.
Melody Bee chats with each visitor about how to keep the blooms blooming the longest and what herbal tinctures can be made after they're done blooming.
If we weren't convinced before,
We are now.
Melody Bee needs a flower shop.
It takes all of us working long days to fill up the little brick building with flowers,
Plants,
Herbal remedies and heirloom seeds,
But we're able to do what we set our minds to and the results are spectacular.
Everywhere you look,
There's a beautiful flower and an ecstatic Melody Bee.
The day of its grand opening,
She hands you the comically large scissors to cut the red ribbon.
And the rest is history.
The Honey Bee Flower Shop is a fixture in the neighborhood.
It has since expanded to a plant triage center where people bring sick plants for Melody Bee to help heal.
Plants that are unidentifiable because they've never bloomed suddenly show their petals and receive their names.
Flower owners from all over come to sift through the growing catalog of seeds that Melody Bee has collected over her long career of pollinating.
This is a wonderful community place that you sometimes visit just to be around the flowers even when Melody Bee isn't here because,
Of course,
You have the one and only spare key.
Though we have to be constantly vigilant of Harold taking big chomps out of the plants,
We have set up a catnip garden out front of the shop with a water bowl beside it for our visitors and passerbys alike.
You might not have guessed it,
But catnip might as well be called dognip.
Harold is sure to keep the sprigs perfectly pruned in their boxes.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special,
And you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee Today,
In the Honey Bee neighborhood,
Mr.
Honey Bee will be revealing his latest invention.
I'm so excited.
Give us a hint.
Give us a hint.
Well,
This invention is very powerful and makes big things small.
And tiny things grander than my size.
I think it's best if I just show you.
Sit tight for a moment.
I'll be right back.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey Bee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Walking up the driveway to our open garage where you see Mr.
Honey Bee and his trusted sidekick,
Roger Robot,
Huddled over one of the workbenches.
My little Honey Bee,
You're here.
Look.
Look what Roger Robot and I are finishing up.
It's almost perfect.
It's a shrink ray.
Just think of all the things we can shrink.
We can pack this in our mountain biking backpack and if a bear comes on a bit too strong,
Bam,
Shrunken.
Need to carry something heavy?
No,
You don't.
Bam,
Shrunken.
This is a game changer.
Maybe a world changer.
World,
You say?
Hmm.
Could I shrink the world?
What did you say,
Roger?
Nothing,
Nothing.
Is the lamp on securely?
It looks kind of wobbly.
Oh,
Good eye,
Roger Robot.
It just needs to be tightened.
Here,
My little Honey Bee,
Can you grab my socket wrench from the top drawer?
You look down to see Mr.
Honey Bee's red tool chest with aluminum plating and pull the smallest right-hand top drawer.
Oh,
No,
The other one.
Sorry.
Inside the left-hand drawer,
You find a plethora of metal wrenches,
Some big,
Some small,
Mixed in with socket wrenches of varying sizes and shapes.
You look back up to the shrink ray sitting on the workbench to figure out what size will fit best.
If you didn't know this was a shrink ray,
You would think it was a desk lamp with a miniature satellite where the light bulb should be.
Studying the contraption closer,
You focus in on the contraption and sift through all the tools for the right one to hand to Mr.
Honey Bee.
Just a couple,
And we're done.
Mark this prototype off your list,
Roger.
This one is officially functional and ready for action.
Roger that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Mr.
Honey Bee goes in the house to collect things to shrink,
While Roger Robot wheels over to a wall of computers that sits in the corner of Mr.
Honey Bee's garage by his cubby.
Only one of the screens is on,
The biggest one in the center,
But it's blacked out with only neon green text visible.
Roger Robot scrolls down a long list with impossibly quick keyboard clicks until he finds one specific word he was looking for and checks it off.
With a few more clicks,
He moves a report of information over to a different screen.
This one filled with pictures,
An experimental notebook documenting the prototyping process.
You lean on the back of the chair that sits in front of the screens and ask him a few questions about what you see as he continues to click around.
Roger Robot explains that this is a log of all the prototypes he and Mr.
Honey Bee are working on.
When they finish one,
It moves into an expansion phase of testing it out as much as possible.
This gives them data on how to improve the design or potentially generate ideas for new prototypes.
Mr.
Honey Bee and Roger Robot are experts at this process.
It's one of their favorite things to do in general,
But also their most favorite thing to do together.
Dunzo,
Now.
What will I shrink first?
Mwahahahaha!
Harold and Melody Bee come rushing through the screen door Mr.
Honey Bee left open when they hear your voice talking with Roger Robot.
They clobber you with hugs and hellos and Harold jumps up into your arms for puppy kisses to your cheek as you try to again focus on the screen in front of you.
Roger Robot wheels back to the workbench allowing you and Harold to sit on the chair in the center screen which Harold wants less than nothing to do with.
He wiggles free and winds beneath your feet before joining Roger Robot at the workbench.
With confident hands,
Roger inspects the shrink ray to make sure its power switch is in the off position.
Then he proceeds to wheel around in quick circles like he's engaging a sudden enemy army that is approaching from all angles.
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Not today.
You're getting shrunk.
Shrunken?
Shrank?
Shrunk?
I think it's shrunken because it's an adjective.
Adjective smagitive.
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
No more grammar corrections,
Melody B.
You're shrunk.
Shrunk-en.
I'm shrunk-en.
And I also think you shouldn't be playing around with that,
Roger.
If anyone is qualified to play around with this,
It's me,
The robot.
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Roger Robot,
Stop shrinking me.
Melody B.
Ducks and buzzes to avoid her pretend shrinking.
And Roger Robot wheels in fast circles in pursuit,
Darting from corner to corner in the garage.
Roger,
Stop!
I'm sufficiently shrunk-ed.
I mean shrunk-en.
Stop!
Zap!
Here's a shrink for you,
Little honeybee,
And for you,
Harold.
Zap!
Zap!
Even a pretend shrinking awakened Harold's play instinct,
Which he pounced with the vigor that matched Roger Robot.
Together,
They twirled and leaped,
Evading oncoming enemies and shrunk them when they were suspecting it.
Melody B.
,
Meanwhile,
Takes cover behind one of your shoulders,
Yanking your shirt with her tiny hands to peek over at them every so often.
They really should be more careful with it,
Huh,
Little honeybee?
Should I go get Mr.
Zap!
Zap!
Before she can finish her sentence,
Harold leaps up into the air with all of his might,
Snouts blazing at an invisible enemy.
Whoa!
Whoa!
No!
No!
In Harold's mind,
He has taken over the pretend fight from his team member and is ambushing a combative enemy.
He darts through the garage using all the speed his little fluffy legs can muster.
You leap into action with the certainty that it's not good for Harold to be running wild with this specific prototype.
When you,
Melody B.
And Roger begin chasing him to retrieve the shrink ray,
He seamlessly transitions to a game of chase and then a tug of war,
Which is his favorite.
You and Roger Robot are holding onto the base of the desk lamp while Harold has clamped onto the opposite side,
The worst possible one for him to clamp onto,
The shrink ray side.
Melody B.
Tries to wrangle him and calls for me and Mr.
Honeybee to come help.
Mr.
Honeybee!
Harold,
No!
Leave it!
Mrs.
Honeybee!
Harold gets one last burst of energy and uses it to spring back up into the air with the force of his hind legs.
The shrink ray follows him up,
Spinning in wired circles before landing right back in his snout,
This time much closer to the power switch.
He continues to run around the garage satisfied with himself that he has not yet been caught.
Harold,
I command you to stop!
Harold,
No!
Mr.
Honeybee hears Melody first and storms down the stairs with his arms full of household items that he wants to experimentally shrink.
Hearing faint sounds of commotion downstairs and Mr.
Honeybee's rushed footsteps,
I poke my head out of my writing office and make sure everything and everyone is okay.
Dear,
Is everything all right?
Why are you running?
And what are you doing with my sewing machine?
Everything better be okay.
Get out of the way.
What's going on out here?
I couldn't hear you,
My dear.
What was that?
Mr.
Honeybee?
Certain that something is amiss,
I follow Mr.
Honeybee downstairs and locate the source of the commotion in the garage.
Just as I step through this suspiciously open door,
Melody Bee exclaims,
Mrs.
Honeybee,
Hide!
Hide?
Why would I?
Making eye contact with Melody Bee and then you,
I see a look of horror come across your faces that,
At first,
I don't understand.
That is,
Until you both grow bigger and bigger as I shrink to the size of an ant on the garage floor.
Knowing nothing about the prototype that was just completed today,
I look around in a panic trying to understand what's happening.
Everything in the garage that is usually proportionately sized to me is suddenly gargantuan.
From down here on the concrete floor dodging actual ants left and right,
The garage I know so well has become monstrous.
I take off running on my microscopic legs for the first cover I see,
A flake of chipped paint on the baseboards of the wall.
Ducking for cover,
Still very confused,
I hear Mr.
Honey Bee's tiny voice calling out to me.
Mrs.
Honey Bee,
Mrs.
,
Oh man,
These ants just won't move,
Will they?
Mrs.
Honey Bee,
Can you hear me?
I'm coming for you,
My dear.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
I hear you.
What happened to us?
Once Mr.
Honey Bee makes his way through the line of ants,
He joins me under the cover of a single paint chip peeking out from behind it to monitor the situation in the garage.
We do our best to stand flattened against the wall to avoid being stomped by Harold's now huge paws while he darts around the garage.
Wow,
I really need to repaint the trim out here,
Don't I?
Dear,
What's happening?
It seems that Harold got his snail on the shrink ray.
Mr.
Honey Bee interrupts his sentence to duck us both back behind the paint chip as Harold runs by with the shrink ray dangling from a stray wire in his mouth.
Paralyzed by the chaos as it unfolds,
Roger Robot does a quick calculus of the possible ways the situation will play out.
He projected this mind math onto the backs of his eyelids to keep the probabilities straight and thus,
With his eyes closed,
Did not realize that both Mr.
Honey Bee and I were shrunken.
Assuming that Harold has terrible aim,
Roger Robot gives his normal-sized shape a big hug in an effort to keep it and slowly wheels himself backward into his cubby,
Trying his best not to draw Harold's frantic attention.
Melody Bee,
On the other hand,
Is valiantly making the situation worse by chasing Harold,
Whipping wildly back and forth,
Keeping her buzz on his tail with a fiery gusto.
Not responding to any of Melody Bee's many commands,
Harold finally drops the shrink ray like a deflated toy and sprawls out panting on the garage floor.
Melody Bee tiptoes over to him so as not to rile him back up and swoops the shrink ray into her arms,
Cursing its very existence.
She locates what she assumes is the power switch and frantically pushes all the buttons and levers and switches she sees.
The shrink ray is too heavy for her to hold,
So she angrily flutters over it while kicking it out of the garage,
Hoping to rid us of it completely.
With one final kick over the threshold of the garage,
She uses all of her might to launch it away from her,
Not realizing it is still very much on.
Melody Bee kicks so hard that her legs kept going up above her head and twirled her backward into an accidental backflip.
Confused and with impossibly perfect aim,
The force of the kick pushes all the right buttons to launch a ray right at her.
Had she not been upside down,
She may have seen the ray coming,
But before she could right herself from her flip and take cover,
She was zapped with a ray that doubled,
Tripled,
Quadrupled her size.
Melody Bee kept growing and growing as if she was a squishy balloon that could hold an infinite amount of air.
When finally done growing,
Standing on stick-skinny legs,
Melody Bee can no longer fit inside the garage.
Well,
We're shrunken,
My dear.
Harold shrunk us,
But Melody Bee.
.
.
Expanded?
Still splayed out on the garage floor,
A curious new scent grabs hold of Harold's attention.
He suddenly remembers hearing our voices,
But now he cannot see neither Mr.
Honey Bee nor I in our shrunken state.
He gets up to his feet to follow the scent.
Taking it all in,
You pause before you follow him,
Careful to not activate his strong play instinct once more.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose,
Finding its way to your lungs and expanding your chest out.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and very slowly follow Harold to where he apologetically sniffs us out from our hiding place under the flaking paint of the baseboard.
Little Honey Bee,
Can you see us?
We're down here.
Right here,
My little Honey Bee,
Here.
My,
Am I glad to see you.
It's okay,
Boy.
You didn't mean to shrink us.
It's another quick zap and bam,
We're regular sized and good as new.
From outside the garage,
A greatly inflated Melody Bee does not share in Mr.
Honey Bee's optimism,
Mostly because she cannot hear his tiny voice or much of anything happening inside the garage she can no longer fit in.
Roger?
Harold?
Little Honey Bee?
I'm sure you can see me.
I need.
.
.
Seeing all the destruction his playful romp has caused,
Harold's sad eyes droop down to the cold concrete floor as he melts into a pile of regret and sorrow.
Mr.
Honey Bee and I walk up to pet his snout which stands taller than we do off the ground.
Taken by a sense of responsibility,
Harold perks up before you can make your way to him,
Step by step,
Trying not to excite him further.
He then reaches down and grabs both Mr.
Honey Bee and I by the scruffs of our shirts.
You reach out your hands to silently signal exactly how careful you want Harold to be with us,
Dangling from his mouth before he delivers us to you like a proud,
Loving mama pup.
Harold gently deposits Mr.
Honey Bee and I into the palm of your cupped hands and we wobble trying to find our footing.
My little Honey Bee,
You should see yourself in the mirror,
Rosa.
You look like a superhero.
You came to our rescue.
Of course,
You're a superhero.
Hi there,
My big Honey Bee.
I care not about how big you are.
You will always be our little Honey Bee.
Right,
My dear?
Right.
Well,
We've found ourselves dropped into the middle of quite a mission,
Haven't we?
Listen carefully.
I'll tell you exactly how to operate the shrink ray.
You hold your cupped hands up to your ear to hear Mr.
Honey Bee better so you can follow his directions step by step.
Shouting as loud as he can,
Mr.
Honey Bee first instructs you to put Harold inside the house just in case.
Shifting your hands around to free one of them up,
You call Harold into the house and close the door behind him making sure that it's latched.
Then,
When the coast is clear,
Mr.
Honey Bee instructs you to carefully approach the shrink ray because it's obviously still on and in the opposite gear to expand whatever it comes in contact with.
Closing your hand around us,
You take careful steps toward the device,
Cautious of any number of things that could possibly go wrong,
Expected and unexpected.
You take your first careful steps just as you hear Roger Robot's cubby door open and see Roger blast out toward the shrink ray.
Not today.
With laser-like precision and an actual laser,
Roger Robot aimed another device at the shrink ray that sat beside Melody Bee's inflated foot.
Ow!
That under?
Is anyone going to help me?
No more from you,
Shrink ray.
Consider yourself out of commission.
Frightened by Roger Robot's unexpected charge,
You instinctively recoil,
Shielding your face with your forearm and close Mr.
Honey Bee and I up in your hand in the process.
Once quiet,
You close your eyes and both of us to see Roger roll proudly away,
Thinking he has saved the day.
That's when you see the shrink ray sizzle and shrivel up to a crisp,
Taking our way back to normal size right along with it.
What happened?
What was that?
I can't see beyond your index finger,
You look down to realize that you closed us up in your hand and relaxed your fingers to show us what you see.
Oh,
No.
Is that the shrink ray?
Please tell me you have multiples,
My dear.
That's not usually how prototypes work.
This is in the testing phase.
It's the only one.
Roger hears our faint,
Tiny voices from across the garage but cannot place them.
Roger what?
Mr.
Honey Bee?
I cannot hear you.
Why are you whispering?
Mrs.
Honey Bee?
I do not,
Roger.
I cannot hear you.
Why are you hiding?
Are you speaking through an intercom?
Roger,
We're over here.
Perhaps for good.
Don't say that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
We'll figure this out.
We always do.
Realizing what he's done,
The one outcome he did not find a statistically significant probability for,
Roger robot swiftly loses his marbles,
Which also send Melody Bee into a panic.
With his hands grasping for his hard drive that was so wrong,
He wonders and pleads with the infinite multiverse as to how this was possible.
He rolls right around Melody Bee in circles around her feet just enough for her to see he's panicking.
And if there's anything Melody Bee knows,
It's that if Roger is panicking,
She should be panicking because Roger robot knows everything.
How?
What's wrong?
Is everything wrong?
Everything feels wrong.
Everything will be just fine,
Roger and Melody Bee.
We'll figure this out.
And what if we don't?
What if I'm inflated like this forever?
I'll crush a flower and become.
.
.
You do me the enormous favor of holding your hand up to Melody Bee as high as you can so I can remind her about future tripping,
Tripping over the hypothetical future concerns of future you.
Doing that has never helped a single person,
Especially not you in the future.
Remembering our long conversations about that in the garden,
She calms down a bit.
With me and Mr.
Honey Bee in one hand,
You grab hold of Roger's arm before it can do another panicking circle around the garage and stop him in his tracks,
Both physically and mentally.
Together,
In a new,
Unexpected situation,
But still together,
Which is how we are strongest,
We bring our attention back to our breath,
The most steady thing we have besides our hearts and our friendship.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose for 4,
3,
2,
1.
Hold your breath for 4,
3,
2,
1.
Then slowly breathe out for 4,
3,
2,
1.
And let lungs rest empty for 4,
3,
2,
1,
Before drawing your next slow-down breath of inspiration.
Roger.
How is this possible?
I just can't.
Roger,
Listen.
What?
What?
I'm listening.
How did I miss this?
Listen to me.
We can build it again.
Who is better at this than us?
And look,
Now we have help.
Mrs.
Honeybee and our little Honeybee are here,
And Melody Bee over there is gigantic.
That has to come in handy at some point.
I heard that,
And I politely request to not be this size anymore,
No matter how handy.
Please help.
That's not true.
We're builders.
What can't we build or fix?
Let's do this,
Team.
Together,
We go to the workbench and get right to work.
You set us down so Mr.
Honeybee can better show you and Roger Robot what you need to do.
All is going well at first.
It's a little difficult to hear him,
But we make do in this new situation.
Through a makeshift megaphone,
Mr.
Honeybee tells us where all the tools we'll need are,
What materials we'll need,
And Roger Robot prints the builder's manual with his printer arm for reference.
Everything is going great.
Our spirits are up,
And Melody Bee has gotten somewhat accustomed to being gigantic.
Things are looking up,
And so are we.
We're all huddled around the workbench as you give Mr.
Honeybee a boost on your hand so he can get up to the very top cabinet He's sure he put extra electrical wiring up there,
But it's going to be tucked away.
We all watch and listen as he jumps his tiny feet up onto the shelf and rummages about.
He makes his way to the back of the shelf,
Rearranging everything in his path until suddenly he finds a light hole he never repaired.
We can only listen as he clunks against each shelf and everything on it on his way down,
Falling from shelf to shelf in the cabinet.
Standing on the workbench directly below the cabinet,
I run to the edge to try to break his fall,
And both you and Roger Robot are with me.
When Mr.
Honeybee falls down from the cabinet,
I reach up my tiny hands for him,
But we both get swept by the breeze of his fall and become wedged between the wall and the back of the workbench that is bolted to it.
Melody Bee hears our exclamations,
But cannot do anything about it at her size.
Harold tells her that we're stuck and they both become emboldened to help in any way they can,
Her outside the garage and him from in the house.
You and Roger Robot help inside the garage,
Trying everything you can see as a tool to hoist us out of the workbench wedge.
When Harold hears how distressed we are,
He realizes he has no choice but to burst through the screen door with all of his might.
On his third attempt,
When he rips through the screen,
He immediately does what he does best,
Give slobbery puppy kisses.
Three big swipes of his slobbery tongue wiggle us out and fling us into the air.
You reach out to catch me and Roger Robot catches Mr.
Honey Bee just in time.
We turn back to catch Honey Bee but realize that she's no longer there.
Forgetting our prototyping mission for a moment,
We go out to the driveway to see where she is,
Knowing that she couldn't get far without us being able to spot her.
Out on the driveway,
We look in both directions for as far as we can see but we don't see an oversized bee anywhere.
Where did she go?
Did she shrink spontaneously?
If that's possible,
I give up on science altogether.
No,
I will faint and if she spontaneously shrunk,
I will faint.
Someone,
Please catch me.
She had to have gone somewhere.
Do check the ground in case she did shrink spontaneously.
Huh?
Is that possible?
I feel woozy.
Buzz,
Buzz,
Buzz.
Is that?
Is that her?
Tiny old little regular bee-sized me.
Oh,
Catch me.
I'm fainting.
Roger,
It's okay.
It takes both you and the bee to catch Roger who only fainted a little.
Melanie Bee's transformation makes perfect sense and restores his deeply held assurances as soon as he hears it.
I remembered I had a sprinkle of transformation pollen in the backyard,
Just a sprinkle though.
I used the minimum amount to make me regular-sized again.
Oh,
Oh,
That makes perfect sense.
Seems awfully inefficient to not have your transformation pollen abilities downloaded onto your hard drive,
But that's a different issue.
We're okay,
Everyone.
We're okay.
Well,
Much more transformation pollen.
That's fine.
We just need to transform the two of us back to regular size.
About that.
You mean there's not enough for both me and Mr.
Honeybee?
I'm sorry.
It takes about a month to ripen and harvest.
What are we going to do?
It's no worry.
I can stay tiny for a month.
This is kind of nice,
You know.
I can make the most of it,
Like,
Like a vacation.
You cannot stay tiny on your own,
My dear.
I'll stay tiny.
You go back to regular size.
Mr.
Honeybee and I go back and forth,
Sacrificing ourselves to shrunkenness for the other.
You and Melody Bee and Harold all look like you're watching a tennis match with your heads looking back and forth following the conversation.
Instead of this indecision,
Roger Robot deposits Mr.
Honeybee in Melody Bee's hand to continue the contest and wheels off to actually save the day.
Taking a bet on the remainder of the transformation pollen,
He picks it up along with a charred shrink ray and brings it back to the group.
I can only transform things with wills of their own,
Which,
Clearly,
This thing no longer has.
But if we have enough of this pollen to transform it,
We can restore its function,
Right?
All of us,
But especially Melody Bee,
Think carefully about the proposal.
Yes,
That should work.
Great idea,
Roger!
Transformation pollen wakes up even the most inert molecules to create change deep within themselves.
This should work!
Roger Robot sprinkles the transformation pollen onto the charred shrink ray,
And together,
We activate it with the silent,
Restorative wishes that live deep in our hearts.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the sensation of your heart beating full of wishes once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and marvel as the shrink ray slowly reclaims its color and then its power.
You place us on a cleared away portion of the garage floor and prepare to shrink ray us back to regular size on the count of one,
Two,
Three.
You did it,
My little honey bee!
I knew you could!
We hug our hellos in a huddled group as if we were just reunited after a long time apart.
Before too long and definitely before he forgets,
Again,
Mr.
Honey Bee stashes the shrink ray,
His most powerful prototype yet,
Away in a place that Roger Robot doesn't even know.
You can tell me,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Come on,
It was Harold that caused this.
Yes,
It was.
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Where's the shrink ray?
Come on.
No chance,
Roger Robot.
No chance.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee.
Today,
In the Honey Bee neighborhood,
Mr.
Honey Bee will be revealing his latest invention.
I'm so excited!
Give us a hint.
Well,
This invention is very powerful and makes big things small and tiny things grander than my size.
I think it's best if I just show you.
Sit tight for a moment.
I'll be right back.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy and listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honey Bee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
Roger Robot here.
This is a special two-part story.
Make sure to listen to Part 2 next month.
Well,
Um,
Depending on when you're listening to this,
You might already be able to listen to Part 2.
You humans have a funny way of measuring time.
Anyways,
In this two-part story,
I might have done,
Uh,
Well,
I did something that wasn't great.
So that thing I did made the story,
Uh,
A bit longer and better and better and longer,
But definitely better.
So be sure to set your antenna to tune in to Part 2.
Or,
If you don't have antennas,
I'm sure there's plenty of time to get some.
Gotta Zoom!
You are here,
Walking up the driveway to our open garage,
Where you see Mr.
Honey Bee and his trusted sidekick,
Roger Robot,
Huddled over one of the workbenches.
My little Honey Bee,
You're here!
Look.
Look what Roger Robot and I are finishing up.
It's almost perfect.
It's,
Uh,
Shrink Ray!
Just think of all the things we can shrink.
We can pack this in our mountain biking backpack,
And if a bear comes on a bit too strong,
Bam,
Shrunken.
Need to carry something heavy?
No,
You don't.
Bam,
Shrunken.
This is a game-changer.
Maybe a world-changer.
World,
You say?
Hmm.
Could I shrink the world?
What did you say,
Roger?
Nothing,
Nothing.
Is the lamp on securely?
It looks kinda wobbly.
Oh,
Could I,
Roger Robot?
It needs to be tightened.
Here,
My little Honey Bee,
Can you grab my socket wrench from the top drawer?
You look down to see Mr.
Honey Bee's red tool chest with aluminum plating and pull the smallest right-hand top drawer.
Oh,
No,
The other one.
Sorry.
Inside the left-hand drawer,
You find a plethora of metal wrenches,
Some big,
Some small,
Mixed in with socket wrenches of varying sizes and shapes.
You look back up to the shrink ray sitting on the workbench to figure out what size will fit best.
If you didn't know this was a shrink ray,
You would think it was a miniature satellite where the light bulb should be.
Studying the contraption closer,
You focus in on the contraption and sift through all the tools for the right one to hand to Mr.
Honey Bee.
Just a couple,
More,
And we're done.
Mark this prototype off your list,
Roger.
This one is officially functional and ready for action.
Roger that,
Mr.
Honey Bee.
Mr.
Honey Bee goes in the house to collect things to shrink,
While Roger Robot wheels over to a wall of computers that sits in the corner of Mr.
Honey Bee's garage by his cubby.
Only one of the screens is on,
The biggest one in the center,
But it's blacked out with only neon green text visible.
Roger Robot scrolls down a long list with impossibly quick keyboard clicks until he finds one specific word he was looking for and checks it off.
With a few more clicks,
He moves a report of information over to a different screen,
This one filled with pictures,
An experimental notebook documenting the prototyping process.
You lean on the back of the chair that sits in front of the screens and ask him a few questions about what you see as he continues to click around.
Roger Robot explains that this is a log of all the prototypes he and Mr.
Honey Bee are working on.
When they finish one,
It moves into an expansion phase of testing it out as much as possible.
This gives them data on how to improve the design or potentially generate ideas for new prototypes.
Mr.
Honey Bee and Roger Robot are experts at this process.
It's one of their favorite things to do in general,
But also their most favorite thing to do together.
Donzo,
Now,
What will I shrink first?
Muhahaha!
Harold and Melody Bee come rushing through the screen door Mr.
Honey Bee left open when they hear your voice talking with Roger Robot.
They clobber you with hugs and hellos and Harold jumps up into your arms for puppy kisses to your cheek as you try to again focus on the screen in front of you.
Roger Robot wheels back to the workbench allowing you and Harold to sit on the chair in front of the big center screen which Harold wants less than nothing to do with.
He wiggles free and winds beneath your feet before joining Roger Robot at the workbench.
With confident hands,
Roger inspects the screen to make sure its power switch is in the off position.
Then he proceeds to wheel around in quick circles like he's engaging a sudden enemy army that is approaching from all angles.
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Not today.
You're getting shrunk.
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Zap!
Stop shrinking me!
Melody B ducks and buzzes to avoid her pretend shrinking and Roger Robot wheels in vast circles in pursuit darting from corner to corner in the garage.
Roger!
Stop!
I'm sufficiently shrunked I mean shrunken.
Stop!
For you little honeybee and for you Harold.
Zap!
Zap!
Even a pretend shrinking awakened Harold's play instinct which he pounced with the vigor that matched Roger Robot.
Together they twirled and leaped evading oncoming enemies and shrunk them when they were suspecting it.
Melody B meanwhile sits behind one of your shoulders yanking your shirt with her tiny hands to peek over at them every so often.
They really should be more careful with it huh little honeybee?
Should I go get Mr.
Zap!
Zap!
Before she can finish her sentence Harold leaps up into the air with all of his might snouts blazing at an invisible enemy.
Whoa!
Whoa!
No!
No!
In Harold's mind he has taken over the pretend fight from his team member and is ambushing a combative enemy.
He darts through the garage using all the speed his little fluffy legs can muster.
You leap into action knowing with certainty that it's not good for Harold to be running wild with this specific prototype.
When you Melody B and Roger begin chasing him to retrieve the shrink ray he seamlessly transitions to a game of chase and then a tug of war which is his favorite.
You and Roger Robot are holding on to the base of the desk lamp while Harold has clamped on to the opposite side the worst possible one for him to clamp on to the shrink ray side.
Melody B tries to wrangle him and calls for me and Mr.
Honey Bee to come help.
Mr.
Honey Bee!
Harold!
No!
Harold gets one last burst of energy and uses it to spring back up into the air with the force of his hind legs.
The shrink ray follows him up spinning in wired circles before landing right back in his snout this time much closer to the power switch.
He continues to run around the garage satisfied with himself that he has not yet Harold!
I command you to stop!
Harold!
No!
Mr.
Honey Bee hears Melody first and storms down the stairs with his arms full of household items that he wants to experimentally shrink.
Hearing faint sounds of commotion downstairs and Mr.
Honey Bee's rushed footsteps to my writing office and make sure everything and everyone is okay.
Dear,
Is everything alright?
Why are you running?
And what are you doing with my sewing machine?
Everything better be okay.
I should have put it away.
What's going on out here?
I couldn't hear you my dear.
What was that?
Mr.
Honey Bee?
Certain that something is amiss I follow Mr.
Honey Bee downstairs and locate the source of the commotion in the garage.
Just as I step through this suspiciously open door Melody Bee exclaims Mrs.
Honey Bee!
Hide!
Hide?
Why would I?
Making eye contact with Melody Bee and then you I see a look of horror come across your faces that at first I don't understand that is until you both grow bigger and bigger as I shrink to the size of an ant on the garage floor.
Roger Robot here again.
I'll meet you at part two for the rest of this story.
Gotta zoom.
Always remember Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
Bedtime with Mrs.
Honey Bee Roger Robot here.
This is part two of a special story called Honey I Shrunk Mrs.
Honey Bee.
I might have done a thing that may have had some consequences that we are currently dealing with.
In part one of this story where we left off everyone's favorite robot that's me was being a little less than conscientious.
Some would say reckless.
I wouldn't though some others would.
Others like Mrs.
And Mr.
Honey Bee who are a very small fraction of their usual size.
They would probably say I was being a bit reckless but but uh fine fine I admit it I shrunk them I shrunk them both.
They're tiny.
My fingers are not situated in such a way that I can cross them but please please cross your fingers and hope against hope that they return their typical size.
We got this little honey bee we got this.
Right?
Don't don't worry though don't worry.
This is just a tiny problem.
Emphasis on tiny.
Teeny tiny.
Anyways if you have not listened to part one of this story check directly below in this podcast to see how we got into this mess.
Knowing nothing about the prototype that was just completed today I look around in a panic trying to understand what's happening.
Everything in the garage that is usually proportionately sized to me is suddenly gargantuan.
From down here on the concrete floor dodging actual ants left and right the garage I know so well has become monstrous.
I take off running on my microscopic legs for the first cover I see a flake of chipped paint on the baseboards of the wall.
Ducking for cover still very confused I hear Mr.
Honey Bee's tiny voice calling out to me Mrs.
Honey Bee Mrs.
Oh man these ants just won't move will they?
Mrs.
Honey Bee can you hear me?
I'm coming for you my dear.
Mr.
Honey Bee I hear you what happened to us?
Once Mr.
Honey Bee makes his way through the line of ants he joins me under the cover of a single paint chip peeking out from behind it to monitor the situation in the garage.
We do our best to stand flattened against the wall to avoid being stomped by Harold's now huge paws while he darts around the garage.
Wow I really need to repaint the trim out here don't I?
Dear what's happening?
It seems that Harold got his snail on the shrink ray.
Mr.
Honey Bee interrupts his sentence to duck us both back behind the paint chip as Harold runs by with his shrink ray dangling from a stray wire in his mouth.
Paralyzed by the chaos as it unfolds Roger Robot does a quick calculus of the possible ways this situation will play out.
He projected this mind map onto the backs of his eyelids to keep the probabilities straight and thus with his eyes closed did not realize that both Mr.
Honey Bee and I were shrunken.
Assuming that Harold has terrible aim Roger Robot gives his normal size shape a big hug in an effort to keep it and slowly wheels himself backward into his cubby trying his best not to draw Harold's frantic attention.
Melanie Bee on the other hand is valiantly making the situation worse by chasing Harold whipping wildly back and forth keeping her buzz on his tail with a fiery gusto.
No!
Not responding to any of Melody Bee's many commands Harold finally drops the shrink ray like a deflated toy and sprawls out panting on the garage floor.
Melody Bee tiptoes over to him so as not to rile him back up and swoops the shrink ray into her arms cursing its very existence.
She locates what she assumes is the power switch and frantically pushes all the buttons and levers and switches she sees.
The shrink ray is too heavy for her to hold so she angrily flutters over it while kicking it out of the garage hoping to rid us of it completely.
With one final kick over the threshold of the garage she uses all of her might to launch it away from her not realizing it is still very much on.
Take that!
Melody Bee kicks so hard that her legs kept going up above her head and twirled her backward into an accidental backflip.
Confused and with impossibly perfect aim the force of the kick pushes all the right buttons to launch a ray right at her.
Had she not been upside down she may have seen the ray coming but before she could right herself from her flip and take cover she was zapped with a ray that doubled tripled quadrupled her size.
Melody Bee kept growing and growing as if she was a squishy balloon that could hold an infinite amount of air.
When finally done growing standing on stick skinny legs Melody Bee could no longer fit inside the garage.
Well we're shrunken my dear.
Harold shrunk us but Melody Bee expanded Still splayed out on the garage floor a curious new scent grabs hold of Harold's attention.
He suddenly remembers hearing our voices but now he cannot see neither Mr.
Honey Bee nor I in our shrunken state.
He gets up to his feet to follow the scent.
Taking it all in you pause before you follow him careful to not activate his strong play instinct once more.
Take a slow deep breath in through your nose feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose finding its way to your lungs and expanding your chest out.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and very slowly follow Harold to where he apologetically sniffs us out from our hiding place under the flaking paint of the baseboard.
Little Honey Bee can you see us?
We're down here.
Right here my little Honey Bee here.
My am I glad to see you.
It's okay boy you didn't mean to shrink us.
It's another quick zap and bam we're regular sized and good as new.
From outside the garage a greatly inflated Melody Bee does not share in Mr.
Honey Bee's optimism mostly because she cannot hear his tiny voice or much of anything happening inside the garage she can no longer fit in.
Harold?
Little Honey Bee?
I'm sure you can see me.
I Seeing all the destruction his playful romp has caused Harold's sad eyes droop down to the cold concrete floor as he melts into a pile of regret and sorrow.
Mr.
Honey Bee and I walk up to pet his snout which stands taller than we do off the ground.
Taken by a sense of responsibility Harold perks up before you can make your way to him step by step trying not to excite him further.
He then reaches down and grabs both Mr.
Honey Bee and I by the scruffs of our shirts.
You reach out your hands to silently signal exactly how careful you want Harold to be with us dangling from his mouth before he delivers us to you like a proud loving mama pup.
Harold gently deposits Mr.
Honey Bee and I into the palm of your cupped hands and we wobble trying to find our footing.
My little Honey Bee you should see yourself right now.
Wowza you look like a superhero.
You came to our rescue of course you're a superhero.
Hi there my big Honey Bee.
I care not about how big you are you will always be our little Honey Bee right my dear?
Right.
Well we found ourselves dropped into the middle of quite a mission haven't we?
Listen carefully I'll tell you exactly how to operate the shrink ray.
You hold your cupped hands up to your ear to hear Mr.
Honey Bee better so you can follow his directions step by step.
Shouting as loud as he can Mr.
Honey Bee first instructs you to put Harold inside the house just in case.
Shifting your hands around to free one of them up you call Harold into the house and close the door behind him making sure that it's flushed.
Then when the coast is clear Mr.
Honey Bee instructs you to carefully approach the shrink ray because it's obviously still on and in the opposite gear to expand whatever it comes in contact with.
Closing your hand around us you take careful steps toward the device cautious of any number of things that could possibly go wrong expected and unexpected.
You take your first couple steps just as you hear Roger Robot's cubby door open and see Roger blast out toward the shrink ray.
Not today.
With laser like precision and an actual laser Roger Robot aimed another device at the shrink ray that sat beside Melody Bee's inflated foot.
No more from you shrink ray consider yourself out of commission.
Frightened by Roger Robot's unexpected charge you instinctively recoil shielding your face with your forearm and close Mr.
Honey Bee and I up in your hand in the process.
Once quiet you lower your defenses and both of us to see Roger roll proudly away thinking he has saved the day.
That's when you see the shrink ray sizzle and shrivel up to a crisp taking our way back to normal size right along with it.
What happened?
What was that?
I can't see beyond your index finger my little Honey Bee.
You look down to realize that you closed us up in your hand and relaxed your fingers to show us what you see.
Oh no is that the shrink ray?
Please tell me you have multiples my dear.
That's not usually how prototypes work.
This is in the testing phase.
It's the only one.
Roger hears our faint tiny voices from across the garage but cannot place them.
Roger what Mr.
Honey Bee?
I cannot hear you.
Why are you whispering?
Mrs.
Honey Bee I do not Roger.
I cannot hear you.
Why are you hiding?
Are you speaking through an intercom?
Roger we're over here.
We're shrunken perhaps for good.
Don't say that Mr.
Honey Bee.
We'll figure this out.
We always do.
Realizing what he's done the one outcome he did not find a statistically significant probability for Roger Robot swiftly loses his marbles which also send Melody Bee into a panic.
Gripping his head with his hands grasping for his hard drive that was so wrong he wonders and pleads with the infinite multiverse as to how this was possible.
He rolls right around Melody Bee in circles around her feet just enough for her to see he's panicking and if there's anything Melody Bee knows it's that if Roger is panicking she should be panicking because Roger Robot knows everything.
How?
What's wrong?
Is everything wrong?
Everything feels wrong.
Everything will be just fine Roger and Melody Bee we'll figure this out.
And what if we don't?
What if I'm inflated like this forever?
I'll crush a flower before I pollinate it.
What will my life become?
You do me the enormous favor of holding your hand up to Melody Bee as high as you can so I can remind her about future tripping tripping over the hypothetical future concerns of future you.
Doing that has never helped a single person especially not you in the future.
Remembering our long conversations about that in the garden she calms down a bit.
With me and Mr.
Honeybee in one hand you grab hold of Roger's arm before it can do another panicking circle around the garage and stop him in his tracks both physically and mentally.
Together in a new unexpected situation but still together which is how we are strongest we bring our attention back to our breath the most steady thing we have besides our hearts and our friendship.
Take a slow deep breath in through your nose for four three two one hold your breath for four three two one then slowly breathe out for four three two one and let lungs rest empty for four three two one before drawing your next slow down breath of inspiration.
Roger how is this possible I just can't Roger listen what what what I'm listening how did I miss this listen to me if we built this once we can build it again who is better at this than us and look now we have help Mrs.
Honeybee and our little Honeybee are here and Melody Bee over there is gigantic that has to come in handy at some point I heard that and I politely request to not be this size anymore no matter how handy please help that's true we're builders what can't we build or fix let's do this team together we go to the work bench and get right to work you set us down so Mr.
Honeybee can better show you and Roger Robot what you need to do all is going well at first it's a little difficult to hear him but we make do in this new situation through a makeshift megaphone Mr.
Honeybee tells us where all the tools will need are what materials will need and Roger Robot prints the builder's manual with his printer arm for reference everything is going great our spirits are up and Melody Bee has gotten somewhat accustomed to being gigantic things are looking up and so are we we're all huddled around the work bench as you give Mr.
Honeybee a boost on your hand so he can get up to the very top cabinet right above it he's sure he put extra electrical wiring up there but it's going to be tucked away we all watch and listen as he jumps his tiny feet up onto the shelf and rummages about he makes his way to the back of the shelf rearranging everything in his path until suddenly he falls through an old termite hole he never repaired we can only listen as he clunks against each shelf and everything on it on his way down falling from shelf to shelf in the cabinet standing on the work bench directly below the cabinet I run to the edge to try to break his fall and both you and Roger Robot are with me when Mr.
Honey Bee falls down from the cabinet I reach up my tiny hands for him but we both get swept by the breeze of his fall and become wedged between the wall and the back of the work bench that is bolted to it Melody Bee hears our exclamations but cannot do anything about it at her size respond to me I cannot get in there to see Harold tells her that we're stuck and they both become emboldened to help in any way they can her outside the garage and him from in the house you and Roger Robot are plenty of help inside the garage trying everything you can see as a tool to hoist us out of the workbench wedge when Harold hears how distressed we are he realizes he has no choice but to burst through the screen door with all of his might on his third attempt when he rips through the screen he immediately does what he does best give slobbery puppy kisses three big swipes of his slobbery tongue wiggle us out and fling us into the air you reach out to catch me and Roger Robot catches Mr.
Honey Bee just in time we turn back to check on Melody Bee but realize that she's no longer there forgetting our prototyping mission for a moment we go out to the driveway to see where she is knowing that she couldn't get far without us being able to spot her out on the driveway we look in both directions for as far as we can see but we don't see an oversized bee anywhere where did she go did she shrink spontaneously if that's possible I give up on science altogether no I will faint and if she spontaneously shrunk I will faint someone please catch me she had to have gone somewhere do check the ground in case she did shrink spontaneously huh is that possible I feel woozy buzz buzz buzz is that is that her oh catch me I'm fainting roger it's okay it takes both you and melody bee to catch roger who only fainted a little melody bee's transformation makes perfect sense and restores his deeply held assurances as soon as he hears it I remembered I had a sprinkle of transformation pollen in the backyard just a sprinkle though I used the minimum amount to make me regular sized again oh oh your transformation pollen perfect that makes perfect sense we're okay everyone we're okay well more transformation pollen that's fine we just need to transform the two of us back to regular size about that you mean there's not enough for both me and honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey honey to continue the contest and wheels off to actually save the day taking a bet on the remainder of the transformation pollen he picks it up along with the charged shrink ray and brings it back to the group I can only transform things with wills of their own which clearly this thing no longer has but if we have enough of this pollen to transform it we can restore its function right all of us but especially melody be think carefully about the proposal yes that should work great idea roger transformation pollen wakes up even the most inert molecules and convinces them of their capacity to create change deep within themselves this should work roger robot sprinkles the transformation pollen onto the charge shrink ray and together we activate it with the silent restorative wishes that live deep in our hearts take a slow deep breath in through your nose feel the sensation of your heart beating full of wishes once twice three times then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and marvel as the shrink ray slowly reclaims its color and then its power you place us on a cleared away portion of the garage floor and prepare to shrink ray us back to regular size on the count of one two three you did it my little honey bee i knew you could we hug our hellos in a huddled group as if we were just reunited after a long time apart before too long and definitely before he forgets again mr honey bee stashes the shrink ray his most powerful prototype yet away in a place that roger robot doesn't even know you can tell me mr honey bee come on it was harold that caused this yes it was mr honey bee where's the shrink ray come on no chance roger robot no chance always remember mrs honey bee believes in you you are special and you are loved i can't wait to see you again bedtime with mrs honey bee today in the honey bee neighborhood we'll be going on an adventure into a new world made of chalk have you ever drawn with chalk before i love chalk with a little magic anything that we draw can come to life right mrs honey bee that's right melody bee we can go anywhere in chalk world we're only limited by our imagination hmm what about whoa that's a beautiful flower melody bee but why would you want to visit a flower you're a bee you visit flowers every day i love flowers it was the first time i thought of here i'll make a few adjustments oh a bouquet of flowers ah is that for me yes mrs honey bee you are so sweet melody bee thank you my dear for this adventure we're going to be thinking a little bit bigger than flowers i've got a special idea to music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music music 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