Owen had a fuzzy yellow blanket.
He’d had it since he was a baby.
He loved it with all his heart.
“Fuzzy goes where I go,” said Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.
“Fuzzy likes what I like,” said Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Orange juice, grape juice, chocolate milk.
Ice cream, peanut butter, applesauce cake.
“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t you heard of the Blanket Fairy?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.
That night Owen’s parents told Owen to put Fuzzy...
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