Children’s books: my story

Once upon a time, there was a little chap called Paul who loved books.

The pudgy-faced young lad, with his tufty blonde hair, would carry a new Mr Men book in his chubby hands for a whole day before allowing someone to read it to him.

As he grew older, slightly less tubby and slightly less blonde, the lad discovered Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Michael Bond’s Paddington books, Norman Hunter’s Professor Brainstawm stories, then progressed to adventures with the Hardy Boys and Swallows and Amazons, and mysteries with Alfred Hitchcock’s Three Investigators.

That fiction-loving young whippersnapper was, of course, me, and, since my teens or possibly even earlier, I’ve wanted to write my own books for children. My fondness for my own childhood favourites has never gone away, and these days I read them to my own children. My daughter has just peered over my shoulder to see what I’m writing, having just enjoyed a chapter of Paddington Helps Out.

I wrote my first children’s book – Splot (a story about an alien who crash-lands in a garden pond) -as an assignment for my English language A Level, and revived it for a publishing assignment as part of my degree. I still have copies of it, and for several years have planned to re-work it.

Other stories have languished somewhere either in the back of my mind, partly sketched out in a notepad somewhere or lurking on my laptop, or long forgotten in a drawer or a box, and it occurred to me last week that I’d given up too easily on my ambition. I’ve entered some competitions, got nowhere, and admitted defeat.

Although all my jobs since I left college have involved writing and publishing to some extent, they haven’t allowed me to make things up using what my teacher at infant school called my ‘vivid imagination’.

I do, however, enjoy the freedom of writing this blog. Sometimes the story is sad, sometimes funny, but it’s my story, and I’m telling it my way.

So the former pudgy-faced, tufty-haired youngster, now bald, 37 and a father of two, sat up in bed one night and thought: “I know what – I’ll dig out a story I’ve written for children, and post it on this blog so that other people can read it to their children.” And that’s exactly what he did.

This is a short story I wrote fairly recently about a monkey toddler who has an unexpected adventure on the way to the banana shop. Tell me what you think, and, more importantly, what your children think.

Scampy Monk and the Bus Full of Babbits

It was the middle of a morning in May and Scampy Monk was bouncing on his bed, bellowing for bananas.

“Bla bla!” he shouted. “Bla bla!”

“A banana?” replied Mumsy Monk. “But you’ve eaten them all! We’ll have to go to the shop.”

Scampy Monk bounced with a big boing off his bed, bumped down the stairs on his bottom and gave his mum a big hug. “Bla bla,” he said, with a cheeky grin on his little monkey face.

He grabbed his yellow bus, put on his blue shoes and stood by the door of Monkey Treehouse.

“Bla bla,” he said again.

Five minutes later, Mumsy Monk, Dadsy Monk and Scampy Monk were swinging down the tree trunk and on their way to the banana shop.

Scampy Monk went bounding down the lane, busily brumming his bus.

He stopped, as he always did, by the broken bench, where he liked to peek at the sheep through the old, wooden fence.

“Zeep!” he said, pointing happily.

“Yes, a sheep,” said Dadsy Monk.

“Two zeep!” said Scampy Monk.

“That’s right, two sheep! Good counting!” said Dadsy Monk.

“Babbits!” squealed Scampy Monk suddenly. “Two babbits! More babbits!”

“Ooh yes, lots of rabbits,” said Mumsy Monk.

“Babbits go lellow bus?” asked Scampy Monk.

“I’m sure the rabbits would love a ride in your bus,” said Mumsy Monk, “but I think they’re a bit big. Let’s go and get you a banana.”

Scampy Monk called out “Bye bye, zeep! Bye bye, babbits!” and with a friendly wave he was off, carrying his yellow bus above his head as if it could fly.

They were just down the road from the banana shop when they heard the loud but cheerful “BEEP BEEP!” of a horn behind them.

As they turned round, Scampy Monk was surprised but thrilled to see a big, yellow bus.

“Lellow bus!” he cried in delight.

“That driver,” said Dadsy Monk, “looks just like a sheep.”

“It is a sheep!” gasped Mumsy Monk. “But sheep can’t drive buses!”

“Zeep!” squeaked Scampy Monk, bouncing with excitement.

The sheepy driver was not the only strange thing about the bus. Scampy Monk noticed something funny about the passengers too.

“Babbits!” he shrieked. “Babbits on lellow bus!”

All the passengers were rabbits. Some were brown, some were grey, some were black and some were white. Some were a mixture of colours. Some were chatting to each other. Some were playing games. Some were looking out of the window. Quite a lot of them were eating carrot crisps, and one or two were having a nap.

The sheepy driver leaned out of the open window.

“Would you like to join us?” she asked.

Scampy Monk had jumped onto the bus before his mum and dad could answer, so they followed him.

“Seatbelts on!” called the driver.

Everyone quickly fastened their seatbelts. Scampy Monk was extremely excited, especially when he heard the bus engine start.

He had a huge surprise when he looked out of the window.

“Bus flying!” he cheered.

“Oh!” said Dadsy Monk. “I wasn’t expecting that!”

Scampy Monk was amazed to see clouds drifting past the window as the bus flew higher and higher, and the sheep and rabbits he had seen in the field below got smaller and smaller. An owl looked in through the window and hooted.

The rabbits on the bus chattered loudly. Scampy Monk turned round and waved at them.

“Hello babbits!” he said.

The rabbits waved back and made rabbity noises.

“Hold on tight!” bleated the bus driver. “We’re going up!”

The bus engine made a loud, grumbling, rumbling sound – more like an aeroplane, or even a rocket, than a bus.

Then WHOOSH! The bus went zooming straight up through the clouds.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeee!” squeaked Scampy Monk.

For a few moments, the monkey family and the rabbits were in clear, blue sky, looking down on a bed of snowy white clouds. Then the sky became dark.

“Time for bed?” asked Scampy Monk.

“No, sweet pea,” said Mumsy Monk. “I think we’re in space.” And they were.

As they left Earth, looking like a green and blue bouncy ball far below them, Scampy Monk spotted something ahead of them that made his eyes goggle.

It was the Moon, and it looked just like a…

“Bla bla!” whooped Scampy Monk. “Big bla bla!”

“That’s not a banana, dear,” said Mumsy Monk. “It’s the Moon. It does look like a banana though, doesn’t it?”

“Moooooooon,” said Scampy Monk. He sat up as high as he could in his seat to get a better view.

“I wasn’t expecting this either,” said Dadsy Monk.

As the bus got closer and closer to the Moon, it slowed down. Slower and slower it crept, until it had pulled up next to the Moon.

“Everybody off!” called the driver.

Scampy Monk bounced up and down on his seat, waiting to walk on the Moon.

The sheep driver gave each passenger a space helmet to wear as they got off the yellow bus. Scampy Monk felt like his little head was in a great big bubble – but it was fun.

There were some steps on the banana-shaped Moon, which everyone climbed to the top. The sheep led the way, and handed out slippery mats. It was a giant slide! Scampy Monk watched the rabbits whizzing down.

“Me! Me!” he yelled, tugging on Mumsy and Dadsy Monk’s arm.

“Let’s all go together!” said Dadsy Monk, who was nearly as excited as his son.

Scampy Monk sat at the front of the mat, holding on to Mumsy Monk’s legs. Dadsy Monk, who had the longest legs, sat at the back.

“Are you ready?” asked the sheep.

“Yes!” shouted all three monkeys at the same time.

The sheep gave them a gentle push, and they were off, speeding down the steep slope.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” cried Scampy Monk, loving the ride.

When they got to the bottom, the three monkeys rolled off their mat onto a big, flat rock, laughing merrily.

“Again!” said Scampy Monk, straight away. “Again!”

They went on the slide another ten times, going faster each time.

“BEEP BEEP!” The sheep was sounding the horn.

“Everybody back on the bus please!” she called, as she drove the bus round to the end of the slide. “One last ride!”

Scampy Monk, Mumsy Monk and Dadsy Monk took their slippery mat to the top of the slide for the last time and went zipping down to the bottom, flying through the open bus door. The sheep took their space helmets and the rabbits all got on board.

“Off we go!” shouted the sheep, turning the bus round and driving off into space.

“Bye bye, Moon,” said Scampy Monk, waving as the Moon got smaller and smaller.

“Ball!” he chattered, looking at the Earth.

“No dear,” said Mumsy Monk. “That’s the Earth. That’s where we live.”

Soon the sky was blue again and Scampy Monk could see the clouds, then the fields and the trees.

“I wasn’t expecting any of that,” said Dadsy Monk, as the bus landed at the bus stop.

The bus door opened and the sheep stood up.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, smiling. “I hope you enjoyed your trip.”

The passengers unfastened their seatbelts and, one by one, walked to the front of the bus and thanked the driver.

“Bye bye, zeep,” said Scampy Monk, hopping down the bus step. “Bye bye, babbits!”

“I bet you weren’t expecting that,” said the sheep to Dadsy Monk, with a wink.

Once everyone was off the bus, the driver closed the door, and with a wave of her hoof she was off down the lane.

“Right,” said Mumsy Monk. “What shall we do now?”

“Bla bla!” chirped Scampy Monk, with a big grin.

“Good idea,” said Dadsy Monk. “I’m a bit hungry after all that sliding.”

THE END 

 

 

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