The Great Pajama Invitation
The sun pokes through Benny the Bear's round window like a nosy neighbor, spilling gold across his treehouse bedroom and landing right smack on his sleeping face. Benny's nose twitches. His ears twitch. His whole fuzzy body twitches, and then, all at once, his eyes pop open like two brown buttons snapping into place.
"Today's the day!" he bellows, and the shout is so big and so sudden that a family of squirrels three branches over drops their breakfast acorns in fright.
Benny doesn't bother getting dressed, mostly because he's already wearing the only outfit that matters: his honey-colored pajamas, dotted with tiny embroidered bumblebees, soft as a cloud and just a size too big so the sleeves flop past his paws. He wiggles his toes. He wiggles his whole self, actually, right there under the quilt, working up the kind of bounce that a bear only gets once or twice in a lifetime. Then he flings back the covers and leaps out of bed with the grace of a bear who has never once considered gravity a serious threat.
His slippers — two fat, fuzzy things shaped like little brown owls — are waiting by the bed exactly where he left them. Unfortunately, Benny is not waiting for his feet to…
