Chapter 15: The Silly Squirrel
Epilogue Thoughts: On Finding Our Funny (and Claiming Our Selves)
Deep in the Great Forest, past the Clear Blue Lake, and nestled between two of the Singing Mountains is a place called Mosswood. It’s a quiet little place of tall beech and maple trees, the Babbling Brook that runs through, and warm meadows that like to take naps in the afternoon sun. And if you happened to pass by the Rabbit Burrow one summer morning not too long ago, you might have heard the giggles of five small bunnies being entertained by some very cheeky fruit.
Chapter 15: The Silly Squirrel
When the weather turns hot, there’s no better place in Mosswood to seek refuge than the Nectar Sip. Lady Hummingbird works magic with the help of her root cellar and clay pitchers to make cold lemonade even on the most sweltering days. The morning glory canopy over her elm tree terrace grows thick from faithful watering, and its shade was a welcome relief to Freddy and Freida Squirrel late one steamy summer morning.
“Leave it to Ma to pick the hottest day of the year for us to carry her rocker to Woodpecker’s,” Freddy groused as he plopped himself at one of the round tables.
“It’s not the hottest day of the year,” Freida replied, although she too was grateful to have finished their errand.
Freddy feigned a serious face.
“Be good children, dears, and do a teeny, tiny errand for your mother,” he admonished.
Freida couldn’t help giggling at her twin’s impression of Mother Squirrel.
“What flavor do you think today’s lemonade will be?” Freida asked, looking towards the tea house door.
“Froo-froo berry,” her brother piped, pursing his lips and fluttering his arms.
“Freddy!” Freida jabbed him in the ribs as Lady Hummingbird flit from the door with a tray and glasses.
While her brother might have been an excellent mimic of their hostess, Lady Hummingbird rarely appreciated his imitations.
“Good day, young squirrels,” Lady Hummingbird trilled, setting down the tray, “Elderberry lemonade?”
“Oh yes, please,” said Freida. Elderberry was her favorite.
“For us too!” hollered a voice.
Freida turned to see Zippikins Otter bounding toward them, the rest of the quintuplets at her heels.
“Certainly,” replied Lady Hummingbird, “One moment, please.”
In a blur of color, she winged back inside as Freida waved over the pups. Zippikins, Skipperdoole, Twinkle Toes, Friskers and Oliver clambered up the platform, pulling up table and chairs to join the twins.
“Oh yes,” Freddy continued in his hummingbird voice, “Ellllllderberry is my most froo-froo-est lemonade.”
The pups howled with laughter.
“Do me! Do Me!” cried Friskers.
“Golly!” winked Freddy, “Stand back ev’ry buddy! I’m ‘bout to cannonball your whiskers off!”
The entire crew dissolved in fits of giggles.
“Hoo-whee,” Twinkle Toes panted, “Freddy, you’re a hoot!”
“Hoot, I should think soooo,” chimed in Freida, doing her best impression of Mosswood’s owl librarian.
Freddy and the quintuplets blinked at her as Lady Hummingbird returned with lemonade and began pouring Freida a glass. Freida’s cheeks flushed, and she swept up her freshly filled drink to inspect the elderberries floating within.
“Oh,” said Oliver, “Was that a Mr. Owl impression?”
“Nahhh,” said Freida, “Who else needs lemonade?”
And she hopped up to help Lady Hummingbird serve.
“Hey!” said Freddy, scooping a berry from his glass, “Have I told you all the one about three moose who walk into a blackberry patch?”
“Tell us! Tell us!” cried Skipperdoodle.
Freddy launched into his joke and soon the terrace was once more filled with laughter. Freida giggled too, but kept her nose in her lemonade.
Just be helpful, Freida, she thought to herself, that’s your thing.
“Freida!”
Mother Squirrel’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Freida looked up to see her strolling towards the tea house.
“Freida, dear,” continued her mother as she reached the terrace, “I was supposed to go help Mother Rabbit today, but I’ve just burned a batch of brittle. I need to get scrubbing those pans before it cakes on like granite. Would you mind helping out for me?”
“Sure!” said Frieda. She turned to her friends. “See you all later!”
“See ya, sis!” said Freddy, “Now how about the one about the mouse and mackerel?”
“Bye!” called the otters as Freida nipped down the terrace steps and Freddy launched into his next joke.
It was still muggy as she made her way to the Rabbit Burrow, but the lemonade had refreshed her and it was nice to have a moment to herself.
Not everyone can be funny, she thought as she strolled past the tumbling tomato vines and neat rows of radishes, carrots, and cauliflower of the Rabbit’s garden.
“Oh bless you, Freida!” called Mother Rabbit when Freida stepped inside the Burrow door and announced herself as Mother Squirrel’s replacement. The Rabbit home, as usual, was a tumble of activity.
“Hi, Frieda,” said Rosie Rabbit, who was tucking a trowel in her gardening belt, “the older kits and I are helping Mother weed the spinach rows today.”
“Could you possibly give the wee ones their snack, Freida?” asked Mother Rabbit.
The youngest bunnies – Blossom, Pickles, Junebug, Shortcake and Buttons – bounced in a fluffy frenzy at her feet.
“Snack! Snack! Snack!” they clamored.
“Of course,” said Freida.
She could manage five hungry bunny babes.
“Bless you, “ said Mother Rabbit, pointing towards the kitchen, “They’re cucumbers and melons that need to be sliced. We’ll be in the garden if you need us.”
“See you soon, Freida!” called Rosie, as she and the older kits followed their mother out the door. Then she popped her head back in for a moment. “Wanna go for a swim afterward?”
“Snack! Snack! Snack!” cried the babes.
“Sure thing, Rosie! See you later!” answered Freida, waving good-bye. Then she turned to her charges. “Now calm down you five. Snacks are coming!”
In two shakes of a tail, Frieda was at the kitchen table, whipping a peeler over the cucumbers as the bunnies crowded around her.
“Snack now!” demanded Pickles.
“Fooooood,” moaned Buttons.
“How much longer?” asked Blossom.
“It’s coming. It’s coming!” Freida took a breath and tried to focus on what she was doing.
Peel, peel, slice, slice. ZIP!
A cucumber stick skidded out from underneath her paws.
“Yikes!” Freida lurched sideways, catching it just before it hit the floor.
“Hee-hee-hee!” chuckled the babes.
“Goodness,” Freida muttered, setting the cucumber stick aside and grabbing a melon.
Slice, slice. ZOOM!
A slippery honeydew wedge flew off her cutting board. Again she dove, snatching it from the ground just in time.
“Fuzzy chestnuts!” she exclaimed, “the snacks are trying to escape!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” the bunnies chortled.
Freida banged the melon back on her cutting board.
“Slippy fwuit! Slippy fwuit!” cried Buttons, clapping his paws.
“More! More!” urged Shortcake.
“Jump coo-cumber! Jump!” cheered Junebug.
“Hey now!” said Freida, “Don’t encourage them!”
It was hard enough to cut fruit without it flying from her paws.
“Again! Again!” shouted Blossom.
“You know,” started Frieda, about to list ten things they could do that would be a lot more helpful than cheering on the misbehaving produce, but then she paused.
All five rabbit babes were lined up at the kitchen table in rapt attention. The whining had stopped. Freida arched an eyebrow and a sly smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“You know…” she started again, “This cantaloupe had better stay put or…”
She gave the melon slice a squeeze which sent it skidding across the table.
“BAH!” she squawked as she threw herself after it.
The bunnies squealed.
“Oh no!” she cried, “Not the cucumber too!”
Fits of giggles from her audience.
Frieda grinned to herself and continued, letting the melons wreak havoc and cucumbers run wild. She leapt and juggled and careened and plunged. The rabbit babes buckled over in their seats. Then a new idea struck her.
“What shall we have with our melons?” Freida asked. “I know! A nice mushroom dressing!”
“No!!!!” cried the wee ones, nearly in tears, “That’s not right!”
“Well, well, no mushrooms? Some nice onions, then, on top?”
“Yuck!!” they answered giggling from ears to tails.
Frieda gave her head a waggle and then sent a cantaloupe slice flying before landing it on a plate. Before long, all five bunny bowls were full.
“Time to eat!” she said, panting and throwing her paws on the table to rest.
“What???” chorused the babes.
“More silly squirrel!” implored Pickles.
“Yes! More silly squirrel!” came Rosie’s voice.
Freida looked up to see Mother Rabbit, Rosie, and the older kits had returned and were watching at the door.
“That was fantastic!” said Poppy.
Freida blinked.
“Super amazing!” added Fig.
“Silly squirrel!!!!” shouted the babes.
“Eat your snacks,” answered Mother Rabbit, coming over and putting a grateful arm around Frieda’s shoulders, “Thank you so much, Freida. And what a talent you have!”
Frieda blushed under her fur.
“Silly squirrel!!!!!!” the babes wailed.
“No silly squirrel,” said Rosie, coming over to pull Freida towards the door, “My friend owes me a swim.”
“Awwwwwwwwww.”
The babes stared dejectedly at their plates. Freida couldn’t help but smile.
“Maybe another time if you ask very nicely,” added Rosie.
“Definitely,” said Freida.
“YAY!!!!!”
Five bunnies bounced with joy and started stuffing their faces. Freida waved good-bye and scooted out the door after her friend.
“Seriously,” added Rosie, as they trotted down the path towards Silver Pond, “That was amazing. I had no idea you could do that.”
“Neither did I,” answered Freida.
“You know,” said Rosie, “Basil and Fig are getting a juggling show ready for the Great Celebration. You should do an act too.”
“A what?” said Freida.
“An act,” said Rosie, as they reached the shore, “Like you did for the babies. You’re hilarious!”
Hilarious.
Frieda stopped and stared at her friend.
“At least think about it,” said Rosie, stepping in the water, “Now come on. I’m roasting!”
Frieda stood at the edge watching Rosie wade out.
Hilarious!
The breath in her lungs burst into a million sparks of joy.
“Maybe I will,” she called back, taking a step towards the pond, and then whispered under her breath, “Maybe, I will.”
Epilogue Thoughts: On Finding Our Funny (and Claiming Our Selves)
Growing up, my father (and then my brother) were the funny ones of the family. My painter mother was the artist, and I was the animal lover who dabbled in a wide variety of rotating interests.
Then came school. Surrounded by other kids, a spotlight appeared, shining a glaring light on how not pretty/witty/musical/fill-in-the-blank-talented I was by comparison. (My ego was saved only by virtue of being able to cling, most of the time, to the label “smart.”)
It’s hard to get through childhood without running into the belief that we cannot claim some part of ourselves because we don’t measure up. I can’t tell jokes right – I’m not funny. I can’t draw – not artistic. Struggle in sports – definitely not an athlete so forget activities that involve my body. Failed a test? Can’t figure out fractions? There goes smart.
Often we walk into adulthood still struggling to claim parts of ourselves – as if we live in a world where only redwoods count as trees.
Now as a parent, I’m grateful to see my preschool son discover interests and abilities and claim them ecstatically. It took me three decades to claim my own creativity and humor. I hope as my kids grow that I am able to reflect all of the wonderful things they self-discover back to them. And to help them overcome the winner-takes-all messages I know they will receive or perceive about themselves. I’m right there with them.
As this new year opens, I hope it will be a chapter where you will be able to be all of you. May you help the kids (and grown ups) in your life be all of themselves too.
*Thanks to Meg Oolders for the lovely silhouette banner at the beginning of this chapter.*
I love all of this! The story, the squirrel, the delight in finding her funny! And your notes are always the cherry on top!