Join Fernando, a 10-year-old boy with short blonde hair and glasses, and his best friend, Mouse, as they embark on an exciting summer adventure in the woods of Forest City. They face a series of obstacles and learn the importance of honesty with family along the way.
Fernando and Mouse loved spending their summer days exploring the woods near their home in Forest City. One hot afternoon, Fernando found a shiny key hidden under a rock. He was curious about what it could unlock.
While examining the key, Fernando noticed a mysterious note attached to it. The note mentioned a hidden treasure buried deep within the woods. Excited, Fernando and Mouse decided to find the treasure.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, they encountered their first obstacle. A large, fallen tree blocked their path. Fernando tried to push it aside, but it was too heavy.
- We'll never get past this tree, said Fernando. - Don't give up, Fernando! Let's find another way around, Mouse encouraged.
After walking for a while, they found a narrow path that led around the fallen tree. However, the path was filled with thorny bushes. Fernando and Mouse carefully made their way through, but Fernando's shirt got caught on a thorn.
- Ouch! My shirt is stuck, Fernando exclaimed. - Hold still, I'll help you, said Mouse. Together, they managed to free Fernando's shirt and continued on their way.
They finally reached a clearing, but there was a wide, rushing river separating them from the other side. Fernando and Mouse looked around for a way to cross.
- How will we get across? Fernando wondered. - Look, there's a fallen log we can use as a bridge, Mouse pointed out.
Fernando carefully stepped onto the log, but halfway across, the log started to wobble. - Be careful, Fernando! Mouse warned. Fernando took a deep breath and slowly made his way to the other side.
Exhausted and disheartened, Fernando sat down under a tree. - Maybe we should just go home, he sighed. - Don't give up now, we've come so far! Mouse urged. - But what if we never find the treasure? Fernando asked.
- Remember the note? It said to trust your heart, Mouse said. - Maybe the treasure isn't something you can hold. - What do you mean? Fernando asked. - I think the treasure is about being honest with your family.
Fernando thought about Mouse's words. He realized he had been hiding things from his parents lately. - You're right, Mouse. I need to be honest with my family, Fernando said. - Let's go back and tell them everything, Mouse suggested.
With a newfound determination, Fernando and Mouse made their way back home. They didn't find a physical treasure, but Fernando felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew what he had to do.
When they reached home, Fernando sat down with his parents and told them about the key, the note, and his adventure. - I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Fernando said. - We're proud of you for being honest, his mom said. - Honesty is the real treasure, his dad added with a smile.
Fernando and Mouse loved spending their summer days exploring the woods near their home in Forest City. One hot afternoon, Fernando found a shiny key hidden under a rock. He was curious about what it could unlock.
While examining the key, Fernando noticed a mysterious note attached to it. The note mentioned a hidden treasure buried deep within the woods. Excited, Fernando and Mouse decided to find the treasure.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, they encountered their first obstacle. A large, fallen tree blocked their path. Fernando tried to push it aside, but it was too heavy.
- We'll never get past this tree, said Fernando. - Don't give up, Fernando! Let's find another way around, Mouse encouraged.
After walking for a while, they found a narrow path that led around the fallen tree. However, the path was filled with thorny bushes. Fernando and Mouse carefully made their way through, but Fernando's shirt got caught on a thorn.
- Ouch! My shirt is stuck, Fernando exclaimed. - Hold still, I'll help you, said Mouse. Together, they managed to free Fernando's shirt and continued on their way.
They finally reached a clearing, but there was a wide, rushing river separating them from the other side. Fernando and Mouse looked around for a way to cross.
- How will we get across? Fernando wondered. - Look, there's a fallen log we can use as a bridge, Mouse pointed out.
Fernando carefully stepped onto the log, but halfway across, the log started to wobble. - Be careful, Fernando! Mouse warned. Fernando took a deep breath and slowly made his way to the other side.
Exhausted and disheartened, Fernando sat down under a tree. - Maybe we should just go home, he sighed. - Don't give up now, we've come so far! Mouse urged. - But what if we never find the treasure? Fernando asked.
- Remember the note? It said to trust your heart, Mouse said. - Maybe the treasure isn't something you can hold. - What do you mean? Fernando asked. - I think the treasure is about being honest with your family.
Fernando thought about Mouse's words. He realized he had been hiding things from his parents lately. - You're right, Mouse. I need to be honest with my family, Fernando said. - Let's go back and tell them everything, Mouse suggested.
With a newfound determination, Fernando and Mouse made their way back home. They didn't find a physical treasure, but Fernando felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew what he had to do.
When they reached home, Fernando sat down with his parents and told them about the key, the note, and his adventure. - I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Fernando said. - We're proud of you for being honest, his mom said. - Honesty is the real treasure, his dad added with a smile.
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One day, I will tell you about the overcoat. The vintage brown artifact with epaulets and pockets stoically suspended from the stout wooden peg in the recesses of the hall closet. The coat no child would ever dream of wearing outside. That coat. You might come to love that garment one day, as I do; to value its heft and utility, to see it, perhaps, as an extension of yourself. One day, you just might. I brought the coat with us that Thursday to the hospital near Tel Aviv; or perhaps I intended to bring it but did not. I had been cherishing the garment since October and tossed it in the trunk of the Camry — on top of the ballistic helmets and vests — before leaving home to collect your older sister from preschool. Your grandmother, Auntie Bella, and I. "A Jew should always have a coat. Preferably one with pockets." Not that we needed outerwear that afternoon. The weather was dry and bright; the sun winking through enormous clouds as it tends to do in March after consecutive days of rain. Winter was still in charge, but Spring was teasing. The scent of seasons changing was such that you would savor — grassy, earthy, and engaging like a fine tobacco blend. With the moonroof open just right, to let in the sort of texture I prefer. One day, I will tell you about that Winter. How I was crafting these sentences in a writing workshop during your birth. One day, you will know how — by the time we were navigating toward the maternity ward — I had been stabbing my hands deep into the side pockets of the coat since October and shrugging my shoulders for comfort more than warmth. One day, you might hear about those ballistic helmets and vests. About The Day The Music Died, and everything that came next. “Tell us about the coat, Grandpa,” you might insist one day. A coat with many pockets; weighty, functional, and warm. Like the forest green U.S. Army bomber jacket your Zaidy Sam kept phylacteries in during WW2, when stationed in Burma. Like the woolen trench coat your Bubbie Bella hid gold coins in during that same war, when surviving in a Ukrainian forest. A coat well made keeps one snug and has pockets to store essentials. A Jewish coat also has pockets for necessities one often forgets. Pockets for conflicting emotions. Pockets for Worry and Sadness. Pockets for Gladness and Hope. That Winter I had been making use of the garment’s more practical hollows and neglecting others. That is how I remember it. I was rummaging for solace in all the wrong places and brought the allegorical coat along to reach into pockets I suddenly recalled were there. Pockets for Poetry and Prayer. Pockets for Loving and Light. Like your birth that March in Israel, your other Zaidy also emerged from such pockets in Poland during another period of Darkness. Our family knows about hardship and sorrow. Our family knows about hidden pockets, too. “Tell us again about that Thursday, Grandpa,” you might one day insist. Then, I might set aside my briar wood pipe and tell you about when the sun in March was grinning. When your Grammy baked sweet potato muffins for your mother — you know the ones — and we had to double back to the hospital from the highway after forgetting to leave important documents behind for your father. How the Fall holidays had not yet ended and the Spring holidays were unimaginably looming after 153 Days of Discontent. How you were a second — and also a first — in our family. How your arrival offered Light when we needed it most. “That is how I remember it,” I might one day tell you and your sister who devours stories like M&M’s. “Later, the coat was on its peg when your parents would finally bring you home.”
Winter is spending her summer vacation in Denver, but she has a big problem: she feels left out because of her different looks and interests. Will she find a way to be accepted and make friends?
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