The Third Bear
Written by
Dale Hubert
Illustrated by
Emily Baxter
(c) 2009
(V. Oct 16, 2011)
Dear Journal:
I don’t like writing in my journal.
There. I’m finished. Mama told me to write my thoughts in my new journal and I did. Good for me.
Dear Journal:
I knew it wouldn’t work. Mama said writing about not wanting to write didn’t count. She said it was a bad idea. Do you want to know another bad idea? Writing in journals.
Dear Journal:
GGGRRRRRRR!
The end.
Dear Journal:
That didn’t work, either. Mama told me I was supposed to write about my feelings,
and GGGRRRRRRR! is how I feel.
That’s the way you feel sometimes, especially if you are a bear.
And I am.
GGGRRRRRRR!
Dear Journal:
I am being home-schooled and I like it, mostly. I like learning to give thanks to Mother Nature when
I catch a salmon or when I find fresh blueberries. I like learning how my grandparents lived.
I like learning how to make wise decisions and I like learning how to survive in the woods.
The only thing I don’t like is writing in this journal.
GGGRRRRRRR!
Dear Journal:
I like porridge. I like porridge with bananas. Or porridge with honey. I especially like porridge with honey.
I also like porridge with brown sugar. And a little honey. And some bananas. And some more honey.
I don’t like it when it is too hot. I don’t like it when it is too cold. You probably know how I like it.
Dear Journal:
Mama makes the porridge in our house. She makes it and puts some in a big bowl for herself so she can tell if it’s too lumpy or too runny. Then she puts some in my bowl. When papa comes into the kitchen he’s always hungry so mama takes porridge right from the pot and puts it in his bowl and it’s always too hot. Mine is just right. By now mama’s is too cold. Here’s the part I don’t understand. Papa always says we should go for a walk in the woods and when we come back our porridge will be just right. But my porridge is already just right and mama’s porridge is already too cold. Mama’s porridge won’t be any better after a walk and mine will be worse. But some mornings, papa can be a grumpy bear and when he says, “GGGRRRRRRR!” he really means it, so off we go for a walk in the woods.
Dear Journal:
Today I told my parents I didn’t want to go for a walk in the woods to wait for Papa’s porridge to get cooler and for Mama’s porridge to get warmer (as if that was going to happen) and that I wanted to stay home and eat my porridge just the way it was. Papa said no, because I wasn’t responsible enough to be left alone. Mama said no because I would make a mess and not clean it up. But I argued and said yes, I would be responsible, and yes, I would clean up the kitchen. In fact, I said, I would clean the whole house! Papa and Mama smiled at each other, then went for their walk. Now I have a house to clean, and I don’t like that. GGGRRRRRRR! And now my porridge is cold. Grrr.
Dear Journal:
I have learned how to keep the house clean, how to not make a mess when I eat, and how to do the dishes. I am responsible. So each day when Papa and Mama go for walks, I stay home and eat my porridge, just the way I like it. I like having time to myself. I think I am growing up.
But I still can’t think of things to write in my journal.
Dear Journal:
Today I have something to write. It is important. It is a big deal.
Oh, Papa and Mama are coming home.
I will write later.
Dear Journal:
Someone is watching our house when Papa and Mama go for walks.
I think it is a human girl. I am going to lie in wait, like only a young and fierce bear can.
Dear Journal:
It is a human girl! This morning, after Papa and Mama went for their walk, I stayed home and peeked out the window. There she was. She was creeping closer and closer to my house.
So I stood up in front of the window and in my loudest voice I said, “GGGRRRRRRR!”
And she said, “Oh, how cute – it’s a teddy bear!”
(the story doesn’t end here… there’s much more, but I didn’t want to give it all away just yet.)
