Kiko Counts the Tickles — Every day, before the noon light turned the turtlegrass gold, Kiko practiced his private challenge: swim past the swaying blades without giggling once. Read the full story →
Every day, before the noon light turned the turtlegrass gold, Kiko practiced his private challenge: swim past the swaying blades without giggling once. The grass brushed his flippers with feathery tips, whisper-whisk, whisper-whisk, and every day he made it to seven tickles before blurting a bubble-laugh.
Until one day, Kiko tucked his chin and aimed for twelve. Because of that, he drifted into the extra-tall grass where tiny shrimp were napping on the blades. Because of that, the shrimp sprang up like pepper flakes and made the current fizz around his nose. “No sneezing,” Kiko told himself, which was exactly when his nose went hrrr-CHOO!
The sneeze spun him sideways, but instead of hiding in his shell, Kiko kicked once, then twice, and rode the silly swirl straight through the meadow. Twelve tickles, three shrimp, one sneeze, no quitting. Next time you spot the tall grass, count carefully—the whisper-whisk may be saving number twelve for you.
