Owen had a fuzzy yellow blanket.
He’d had it since he was a baby.
He loved it with all his heart.
“Fuzzy goes where I go,” zei Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.
“Fuzzy likes what I like,” zei Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Orange juice, druif juice, chocolate milk.
Ice cream, pinda butter, applesauce cake.
“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t u heard of the Blanket Fairy?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
That night Owen’s parents told Owen to put Fuzzy...
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