My Turn, Please
On a bright morning, Theo sat on the blue rug with the Red Fire Truck. He rolled it back and forth. Its little yellow bell was shiny in the sun, and Theo made a quiet siren sound in his throat.
Dog lay beside him with her chin on her paws. Theo drove the truck up the side of the couch cushion, a very steep hill. Mom was folding laundry nearby, and she smiled at his rescue.
Then June came skipping in. She saw the truck and wanted it. Before Theo could look up, her hand scooped it off the rug, and she held it high against her chest.
Theo's face grew hot. The mad feeling rushed up from his tummy, fast as a wave. His hands wanted to grab. His teeth wanted to bite. His fists curled up tight, and his whole body went stiff.
Theo stamped one foot and opened his mouth wide. The mad was so big that he had to do something right now. His feet and his hands and his teeth were all asking to go.
What does Theo do with his big mad feeling?
