Uses for Pillows

1. To cushion your head while you sleep.
2. To decorate a chair.
3. To give the cat a place to nap.
4. As ammo in a pillow fight.
5. Something soft to throw when the cat is scratching the bed.
6. To prop up an injured foot.
7. As building materials for a fort.
8. As a hiding place for lost teeth.
9. It's something to hug when you're feeling sad.
10. To hold something you want to display.

Three Bears

Three bears were sitting in the woods. The largest was covered in fluffy black fur, and despite his, size, there was a gentleness about him. The smallest had short brown fur patched through with scars, and a cunning glint in her eye that promised trouble to any that irritated her.
The third bear, was not a bear at all.
Clothed in a onesie that had a bear ear hood was a little boy with curly brown hair. He couldn't have been more than four, but although his cheeks held the evidence of past tears, right at that moment he was sleepily content to lean against the black bear's side.
"You can't keep it, Thomas," the brown bear growled, glancing down at the child with distaste. "Those kind go crazy when they see one of ours near their young. Do you really want to get caught up in that kind of mess right before summer begins?"
Thomas the black bear looked down at the boy, noting that he'd finally fallen asleep. "Look at him, Tilda, he's defenseless. If I'd left him where he was, something hungry would've come along and ate him."
Tilda huffed and and gave Thomas a look. "That cub is hardly a mouthful. Besides, it's mother is probably searching the forest for it. Do you really want to get between a mother and her cub?"
Thomas kept looking at the boy sleeping against him, something sorrowful in his gaze. "She isn't," he turned to look at Tilda, and she stiffened a little at his tone. "I found him at one of those clearing dens his kind like to make for a few days before abandoning. Their den was torn apart, and the only sign I could find of his mother was some blood in the destroyed den. He was all alone, Tilda, and no one was coming back."
Tilda looked away from Thomas, stifling a growl at the scene he'd described. "Was there any sign if what destroyed the den?"
"Nothing native to the forest." Thomas answered.
Tilda looked back down at the boy. "If they come for him, you've got let him go, Thomas."
"If they come for him, to care for him, then I will." Thomas agreed. Then he gave menacing growl that was only tempered enough that it would wake the sleeping boy. "But if those who destroyed his den come, if they try and harm him, I will destroy them."
Tilda bared her teeth. "You? Oh no, dear friend. You will get the cub to safety, while I rip them apart."
Thomas gave a rumbling laugh. "Fair enough."
"Now, if you're keeping him, the cob will need a name," Tilda said.
"Berry," Thomas said, warmth filling his voice again. "After all, I was looking for some berry bushes when I found him."
"Berry it is," Tilda said.
With that, the two bears settled rest, certain the coming summer would bring even more challenges now that there was a cub to care for.

Party Snacks

1. Fruit and dip.
2. Pizza.
3. Cookies.
4. Popcorn.
5. Chocolate.
6. Mini muffins.
7. A vegetable tray.
8. Chips.
9. Breadsticks.
10. Tartlets.

A Traditional Race

It was a tradition.
Rush around the forest, and challenge other creatures to a race.
A fox.
A goose.
Any creature would do.
But the true heart of the tradition was to challenge the tortoise. For there was only one tortoise in the forest, and he was oh so slow.
Story was, the first hare to challenge the tortoise was arrogant, rude, and lazy. He challenged the tortoise, then took a nap! And then kept delaying finishing the race, until finally he forgot about it until some creatures asked if he'd heard about the tortoise who beat a hare.
Well, he demanded a rematch, and swiftly won.
Then, he made sure one of his kids watched the finish line, and challenged the tortoise to another race.
And then another hare challenged the tortoise, and another, and another.
It's the family tradition, now. A tradition built upon two keys.
One: a hare should never laze about when something is to be done.
And two: learn the dedication of the tortoise, who never says no to a race he's only won once.

Possible Ice Cream Flavors

1. Chocolate cinnamon.
2. Lemon raspberry.
3. Strawberry kiwi.
4. Cranberry orange.
5. Hazelnut.
6. Apple almond.
7. Marshmallow cherry.
8. Mint banana.
9. Caramel coconut.
10. Malted pineapple.

Finish Line

Time is ticking away, and yet the tortoise has yet to cross the finish line.
Seasons change, and still there is no sign.
Families grow, families move out and others move in, and still the tortoise delays.
Generations pass.
The finish line fades to a memory, of a race few who live where there to see.
A tortoise crosses the buried line, chips of paint peeking out beneath the leaves and grime.
A young hare hops by, and laughs at the slow tortoise.
"Slow, am I?" the tortoise rasps, and the young hare pauses to stare. "How about a race then, young cottontail?"
And so the finish line was unearthed, and a young hare darted off with a confident cheer.
While the tortoise looked around the clearing, again vibrant with excited creatures, and took one slow step after another back toward an ever-distant finish line.

Foods that go with Swiss Cheese

1. Ham.
2. Macaroni.
3. Rice.
4. Turkey.
5. Quiche.
6. Chicken.
7. Crackers.
8. Salami.
9. Burgers.
10. Toast.