Pip Finds the Polite Sneeze

Pip pulled a fresh tissue from the pocket and shook it open. It made a tiny whispery flap. “A flat cloud,” Nia said. Pip smiled. The tickle was quiet for one breath. Pip practised turning toward the empty side of the room, away from glue sticks, petals, and friends.

Then came the sneeze for real. Pip turned all the way away. The open tissue covered Pip’s nose and mouth. “Ah-choo!” The tissue caught the sneeze with a soft crinkle. Ms. Luma nodded. “That helped keep our art space comfortable, little one.” Pip’s ears lifted, just a bit.

Pip peeked at the crinkly tissue. It felt damp and heavy now, not like a cloud at all. Pip started to tuck it back into the scarf pocket, then stopped. Nia’s eyes got round. Ms. Luma pointed to the small bin by the sink. “Used tissues go there,” she said. “Then we wash hands.”

Pip carried the tissue with two careful paws. The art room smelled like glue and crayons and warm paper. Plop. The tissue landed in the bin. “Bye-bye, sneeze,” Pip whispered. The pocket felt tidy again. Pip looked at the sink. The handles shone silver, and the soap sat like a peachy little moon.

Ms. Luma stood nearby while Pip turned on the water. It rushed with a soft shhh. Pip rubbed soap over both paws, between little fingers, and around the sticky glue spot. Bubbles gathered like tiny pearls. Pip rinsed until the paws felt clean and squeaky. The paper towel made a dry, cozy pat-pat.

Pip came back to the table with clean paws and a quieter nose. The yellow circle waited beside the green stems. “Your flowers are safe,” Nia said, smiling. Pip pressed the circle down, smooth and gentle. A tiny tickle wiggled again, but it was small. Pip knew where the tissues were. Pip knew where to turn.

Across the table, Milo laughed at his wobbly paper bee. A little cough popped out of Pip before a tissue came free. “Oh!” Pip turned away fast and bent an arm. The cough tucked into the soft inside of Pip’s elbow. It was not as neat as the tissue, but it kept away from the table.

Milo looked at Pip’s bent arm. “That was quick,” he said. Pip peeked at the elbow of the blue scarf sleeve. No paint was splashed. No paper bee was ruffled. Ms. Luma nodded. “Your elbow helped.” Pip’s ears warmed, but not in a bad way. “Did you see that, little one?” Pip whispered. “I turned away.”

Pip slid one fresh tissue halfway out of the scarf pocket. Not all the way. Just ready, like a little white flag. The tickle came creeping back. Pip stopped patting glue. Pip turned away from the flowers and friends. This time, one paw found the tissue before the sneeze could jump.

“Hhh…pff!” The sneeze landed softly in the tissue. Pip stayed turned away until the nose felt still. The tissue crinkled in both paws. It was damp now, so Pip did not fold it into the pocket. Pip walked to the small bin by the sink. Plop. “Bye-bye again,” Pip said.

At the sink, Ms. Luma stayed close. Pip pressed the peachy soap and rubbed. Palm to palm. Around the little claws. Between each finger. The water made a bright shhh over the paws. Pip dried with a paper towel until the fur felt fluffy again. “Now my paws are ready for petals,” Pip said.

Pip returned to the table. The garden picture bloomed with yellow circles, green stems, and one wobbly paper bee. “Your flowers stayed clean,” Nia said. Pip smiled under the blue scarf. A tiny tickle waved and went away. Pip knew what to do next time. “Turn away, catch it, bin it, wash,” Pip told little one softly.