Friday, May 20, 2011

On the shelf

The shelf is high. I sit on the shelf sometimes, but sometimes I don't.

My friends sit on the shelf. They are my friends, and they sit beside me. Brown bear sits beside me and the book sits beside me too. They're my friends.

Sometimes we don't sit on the shelf. Sometimes we lay around the room all over the place and we don't go there but the boy puts us there. We stay there until the woman comes, and she is cross and she puts us back on the shelf, because that is where we go.

I like the shelf. It is high and I can see all my friends in the room, even the ones who don't sit with me on the shelf. I can see the dog on the dresser and the small man on the small table beside the bed. I can see the bear who lays on the bed. They are my friends.

One time a new friend came. He was new and there was a lot of excitement because he was new and nobody knew who he was and nobody knew if he would be our friend. We were afraid of him for a while, but then he became our friend and now nobody is afraid of him anymore. One time he went away for a long time but then he didn't come back. I miss him.

There are others who come sometimes and put us where we don't go. They make us move around for some time but then they go away and they leave us where they were and we lay there. I don't like when they leave us where we don't go. I go on the shelf.

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