Once the rain had stopped, little drops of water still clung to the windows outside Freddie’s bedroom.
“Freddie!” Mum called from downstairs. “Are you ready yet? Nana and Grandy will be here soon!”
“I can’t find it!” Freddie shouted back.
“Can’t find what?” asked his mum, but Freddie didn’t respond. His head was tucked under the bed.
After looking under his bed for the third time, Freddie looked in one of his many toy boxes, then under his chair. But his bright red racing car was nowhere to be seen, and this wasn’t just any car. This was his favourite one.
There was a knock on the door.
Freddie sighed. A moment later he heard Grandy’s cheerful voice.
“Where’s our little racing car driver then?” he shouted upstairs.
Freddie slowly walked downstairs. “What’s wrong?” Nana asked gently.
“I can’t find my car,” Freddie mumbled. “I wanted to show you it.”
“The bright red one?” said Grandy.
Freddie nodded sadly.
“Well,” Nana smiled, “the rain’s stopped now, and it’s turned into a lovely bright day.”
“And,” she added cheerfully, “I happen to know the park has some excellent puddles today.”
That made Freddie smile a little.
So off they went.
The park smelled fresh after the rain. Tiny puddles glittered along the winding paths, and the wet grass sparkled in the sunshine.
Whilst Nana and Grandy walked side by side, Freddie raced ahead in his little blue wellies. He held his hands out like he was holding a steering wheel, and as he raced along, he made a quiet “brum, brum, brum” noise.
SPLASH.
He jumped in a little puddle.
SPLASH.
He jumped in an even bigger one that sent water flying everywhere.
Nana laughed. “I think that puddle nearly got Grandy!”
“Nearly?” said Grandy. “I think it soaked my socks!”
Freddie giggled and ran off again.
They watched ducks swimming across the pond. They counted dogs. They spotted a squirrel playing in some nearby trees.
By the time Freddie finally sat beside Nana and Grandy on a wooden bench, his cheeks were warm and pink from all the running.
As Freddie sat between them, Grandy gave Nana a knowing smile.
“What?” Freddie asked.
Grandy looked down at Freddie as Nana put an arm around her little grandson.
“Shall we tell Freddie about the Biscuit Moon?” he said quietly.
Nana’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh…” she said quietly. “Yes. I think he’s old enough now.”
Freddie sat up straight and looked at them both.
“The Biscuit Moon?” he asked.
Nana reached into her bag, pulled out a small packet of biscuits, and handed them around. “Oh yes,” she smiled. “The Biscuit Moon.”
“Before you eat one,” Grandy whispered, “you have to snap it in half.”
“All at the same time,” Nana added. “Quite right, Nana,” Grandy replied. “I almost forgot that.”
Freddie held his biscuit carefully in both hands and watched Nana and Grandy raise theirs.
“One, two, three,” Nana said.
On three, they all broke their biscuits into two pieces.
“Good,” Nana smiled as she took a bite from hers.
“But what is the Biscuit Moon?” Freddie asked as he took a bite from one of his halves.
Grandy looked up at the pale daytime moon hanging above the clouds.
“Well,” he said quietly, “most people think the moon only comes out at night to shine.”
“But really,” Nana added, “the Biscuit Moon listens.”
Freddie looked up at the sky. “Listens to what?” he asked.
“Just listens,” Nana replied. “But it always seems to leave a little bit of happiness behind.”
“Nobody really knows how it works,” Grandy smiled. “It just does.”. “Not huge things,” continued Grandy. “Just little bits of happiness.”
“Like what?” Freddie asked.
Nana thought for a moment.
“Feeling better after being poorly,” she said, “or finding an extra sweet in your pocket when you think you’ve finished them.”
“Seeing someone you really hoped to see,” added Grandy.
“Or spotting a rainbow when you least expect it,” continued Nana. “Just something special and magical.”
Freddie looked down at the last half of the biscuit still in his hands.
“The Biscuit Moon seems to like shared biscuits best,” Nana explained softly.
So the three of them sat together on the park bench and finished eating their biscuits while the breeze rustled the trees around them.
And high above them, faint and pale in the bright afternoon sky, the moon quietly listened.
Freddie smiled to himself. It was probably just one of those funny little stories grandparents liked to tell.
Still, as he walked home between Nana and Grandy, holding both their hands, he secretly hoped the Biscuit Moon might really be listening after all.
The next morning, Freddie woke early.
The sunlight shone a beam of light across his room and over his blanket.
He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and was about to drop off to sleep again, when he spotted something, and then suddenly froze.
There, sitting neatly beside his pillow, was his bright red racing car.
Freddie grabbed it quickly. “The car!” he shouted, racing downstairs.
Mum looked up from the kitchen.
“You found it then?” she smiled.
“Did you put it there?” Freddie asked.
Mum shook her head.
“No, Freddie. But I’m pleased you found it again.”
Freddie looked down at his favourite toy.
Then he remembered the park. The biscuits. The story. The pale moon in the daytime sky.
A tiny smile spread across his face.
Very quietly, so only he could hear, Freddie whispered:
“Thank you, Grandy and Nana. And thank you, Biscuit Moon.”
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