Bearry

Remo’s hand met empty air. He sat up. He looked left. He looked right. He looked under the cozy blue blanket. Bearry was not there. "Bearry?" Remo asked, his voice shaking just a little.

After a long day of building pillow forts, chasing imaginary dragons, and eating peanut butter crackers, six-year-old Remo was ready for bed. He brushed his teeth— chka-chka-chka —put on his rocket ship pajamas, and hopped into bed.

Remo started to feel frustrated. His shoulders felt tight, and his heart was beating fast. He wanted to shout, but he remembered what his mommy said: “When you lose something, stop, breathe, and think it through.” Remo took a deep breath. In... out. Bearry

Back in bed, with Bearry securely under his arm, the shadows didn't look scary anymore. They just looked like shadows. Remo smiled, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep, knowing the best guardian in the world was back on duty. If you liked this, I can: Write a for Bearry and Remo. Make the story shorter or longer .

Bearry wasn’t just a toy. Bearry was a guardian. He had fuzzy brown ears that smelled faintly of maple syrup, one button eye that hung a little loose, and the best hugging arms in the world. Without Bearry, the shadows in the corner of the room looked suspiciously like closet monsters. Without Bearry, his teddy bear duty roster—protecting from spiders and bad dreams—was completely unstaffed. "Mom!" Remo called out. "Bearry is missing!" Remo’s hand met empty air

Mom appeared in the doorway. "Oh no! Where did you have him last?"

Inside the fort? No. Behind the couch? Just a lost Lego. The Bathroom: On the sink? Nope. He looked right

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time he felt Bearry’s soft fur. He remembered the snack. He remembered the tag. And then, he remembered the second snack. "The laundry basket!" Remo whispered.