Boo sat in his little corner of the table, sulking like a tiny cloud about to rain. His round ghostly cheeks puffed out as he tapped his crayon against the paper in protest. Alina knew immediately why—he hadn't gotten the chance to share his "morning gossip." That was the one thing that kept his spirit bright, and now he was holding a full thunderstorm inside him.
For art class, Alina had arranged the colorful tables in a big circle so everyone could see each other. She placed boxes of crayons and watercolors in the center and gave each baby a sheet of blank paper. The moment she said the word "draw," the babies dove in like a pack of tiny artists ready for battle.
She smiled as she walked around, checking their work. Drake was already drawing with fiery energy—his mountain looked a little uneven, but a bright blue river flowed down from its peak, cutting through the page. He was coloring outside the lines, but his excitement made it impossible to scold him.
