One Bite for You, One Bite for Me
Something smelled absolutely, positively, magnificently wonderful. Rosy skidded into the kitchen in her socks — whoooosh — and there on the counter sat the most perfect cookie in the whole entire world. It was round and golden and warm, and it smelled like hugs.
Rosy reached up on her tiptoes. She lifted the Cookie very carefully. And then — the Cookie blinked. "Hello!" it said, in a warm, crumbly little voice. "I'm hungry too, you know."
Rosy's mouth dropped open. Then she burst out laughing, because this was the BEST thing that had ever happened. A talking cookie! A hungry talking cookie! She hugged it — gently, because she was gentle like that — and said, "Okay. We'll take turns."
"Your turn first," said Rosy, and she held Cookie up so it could take a tiny nibble of — well, of the air, which tasted like cinnamon up near the ceiling. Cookie chewed very seriously. "Delicious," it announced.
Then it was Rosy's turn. She took one small, careful bite. It was warm and buttery and chocolatey and perfect. She closed her eyes. The kitchen seemed to tilt — just a little — like the floor was becoming the sky.
Because it was! Rosy's feet left the floor. Cookie was lifting her — spinning her — right up through the ceiling and into the wide, whooshing dark above the neighborhood. "WHOA!" Rosy hollered, and she laughed so hard her belly hurt.
Unicorn appeared from a passing cloud, mane streaming like a comet. "Room for one more?" Unicorn called. "ALWAYS!" Rosy shouted back. Unicorn swooped in beside them, and the three of them shot toward the moon like a tiny, joyful rocket.
"Cookie's turn," Rosy remembered, even in all the excitement. She held Cookie up to a passing star. Cookie took a glittery nibble. "Stars taste like fizzy lemonade!" it gasped. Rosy made a mental note to try that later.
Then — BOOM — they landed on the moon. The silver dust puffed up around their feet in slow, dreamy clouds. Rosy looked out and saw the whole round Earth hanging in the dark like a blue marble. She went completely quiet.
"My turn," Rosy whispered. She scooped up a pinch of moon dust and took the teeniest pretend bite. It tasted cold and silver and a little bit like bedtime. She giggled. Cookie giggled too, which made crumbs float up in the low gravity.
They bounced. They spun. Unicorn did a full loop-the-loop around a crater and landed with a clatter of hooves on the silver ground. Rosy cheered so loud the stars flickered. Then Cookie tugged her sleeve. "One more turn each," it said, "then home."
Cookie took its turn: one nibble of actual moonlight, which it said tasted like warm milk and a little bit like Mama. Rosy's heart did a flip. She was ready to go home.
Rosy took her last turn — one final, perfect bite of Cookie, right there on the moon. It was still warm. It was still the best thing she had ever tasted. "Thank you for sharing," she told Cookie. Cookie beamed.
They rode Unicorn all the way back, the wind rushing and roaring, stars zipping past like fireworks. They swooped down through the ceiling — whoooosh — and landed right back in the kitchen, soft as a sigh. Mama was there, stirring something at the stove.
"Hi, bug," said Mama, without even turning around. "Did you have an adventure?" "A very good one," said Rosy. She set Cookie gently on the table. Cookie yawned a tiny, crumbly yawn and closed its candy eyes.
Rosy sat down beside it and rested her chin on her hands. On the table, one small chocolate chip had fallen off and was sitting all by itself in a little crumb of moonlight coming through the window. She left it right there.
