Bearry wasn’t just a toy. Bearry was a guardian. He had fuzzy brown ears that smelled faintly of maple syrup, one button eye that hung a little loose, and the best hugging arms in the world. Without Bearry, the shadows in the corner of the room looked suspiciously like closet monsters. Without Bearry, his teddy bear duty roster—protecting from spiders and bad dreams—was completely unstaffed. "Mom!" Remo called out. "Bearry is missing!"

"Okay, Bearry," Remo whispered, reaching out for his favorite stuffed bear. "Time for—"

Inside the fort? No. Behind the couch? Just a lost Lego. The Bathroom: On the sink? Nope.

Remo thought hard. "We were looking at my bug book... then we had a snack... then we played tag..." The search began. It was a serious rescue mission. Under the table? No. Behind the big pot? No.

Mom appeared in the doorway. "Oh no! Where did you have him last?"

Remo’s hand met empty air. He sat up. He looked left. He looked right. He looked under the cozy blue blanket. Bearry was not there. "Bearry?" Remo asked, his voice shaking just a little.

Change the (e.g., make it a funny story, a mystery, or a fantasy).

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time he felt Bearry’s soft fur. He remembered the snack. He remembered the tag. And then, he remembered the second snack. "The laundry basket!" Remo whispered.