Wiggles Before the Rooftop

Wiggles Before the Rooftop

Levi was building the biggest garage in the whole wide world. Block on block on block, the tower climbed past his knees, past his belly, nearly up to his shoulders. Dog lay beside it, guarding the red truck's wheels with his nose.

Then something bubbled in Levi's tummy. It was a tiny, tickly push. His body was saying, potty time! But Levi grabbed another block. "Not yet, tummy," he said. "I'm almost done."

The push got pushier. Levi crossed his legs. He bounced on his toes. He wiggled his hips and giggled and wiggled some more, all while lifting the red roof up high. It was the wiggly-giggly dance, and it was not a good sign.

Dog jumped up. He pranced his paws, left, right, left, right, wiggling just like Levi. Then he barked once and pushed the hallway door open with his wet nose. "Dog, are you dancing too?" Levi asked. Dog wagged and pointed his nose down the hall.

Levi looked at his tower. Would it wait? Towers can't walk away, he thought. Games stay put. "Okay, okay, I really have to go!" He zoomed down the hallway like the fastest race car ever, and Dog trotted right behind him.

Levi hopped onto the little red stool. He made it just in time! He flushed with a big proud grin, then pumped the soap and scrubbed until his hands were a cloud of bubbles. Dog sat by the door and thumped his tail.

Back in the playroom, Levi felt light as a balloon. And there was the tower, standing tall, waiting exactly where he left it. "See, Dog? It didn't go anywhere." Dog sniffed it, just to be sure.

Levi clicked the red roof on top. He rolled the red truck into the garage and gave Dog a gentle high-five, paw to palm. Then he whispered a new plan into Dog's floppy ear: next time the tummy talks, they'll race to the potty first, and build even higher after.