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"Wally Weasel's Stories"


Chapter 1
Wally Weasel Loves to Paint

By damommy


Wally Weasel loves to paint, and paints himself a lot.
Some paint goes on the canvas, but most of it does not.
Poor Wally, when he’s finished, is a sight that you must see.
He’s a living breathing rainbow from his head down to his knee.
 
Wally gets excited when he takes his brush in hand.
If you’re smart, you’ll cross the room and there is where you’ll stand.
His brush goes this way, then goes that way, nothing can escape
the splatters.  If you stand nearby, you’ll need a plastic cape.
 
There are eighty-seven pictures, every one is of himself,
There’s a special place he puts them all upon a special shelf.
He likes the color orange, and must buy it by the ton.
His house looks like a tangerine in every room but one.
 
And in that room you’ll never guess what color’s to be seen.
His tiny little studio is painted bright lime green!
His painting smock’s magenta and has polka dots of red.
He wears a little blue beret upon his little head.
 
Now let us go, let Wally paint.  His work has just begun.
Maybe he will show it to us when the picture’s done.

Author Notes I thought Wally might make everyone think more kindly toward weasels. He's a industrious little fellow.


Chapter 2
Wally Paints His Neighborhood

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint and thought today was good
to take his paints and easel out and paint his neighborhood.
He sat his easel up in sunlight, partly in the shade,
and starting painted houses in the lovely color jade.
 
He really didn’t paint them, and I want that understood.
The houses were all painted, just like in your neighborhood.
To paint a picture of the houses was what Wally planned,
and so he took up brush and palette in his weasel hand.
 
It didn’t matter that the houses were not really green.
They were painted in the colors like the houses that you’ve seen.
Some were yellow, some were blue, and most of them were white.
But remember Wally likes his colors very, very bright.
 
He was painting, so excited, that his brush flew everywhere,
and people that were passing by could only stop and stare.
It didn’t bother Wally, he was in his own small world
where he could paint things as he liked, and, oh, his brush did swirl.
 
There was paint on canvas, paint on Wally, most was on the ground,
and still he painted on until no bare spot could be found.
Looking o’er his shoulder, there was such a bright array
of colors never seen before, not even to this day.
 
There were jade and pink and purple and a little bit of blue,
and also orange and yellow, and, yes, magenta, too.
I didn’t see a house at all in any color there,
although, right in the middle he had painted something square.
 
We’ll leave poor Wally once again so he can finish up,
and clean his little brushes in his little cleaning cup.
If Wally’s painting makes him happy, who are we to say
it’s wrong. We all should do things in our very special way.

 

Author Notes It doesn't matter that he's not a good painter. He's enjoying his hobby, and that's all that matters.




Chapter 3
Wally Weasel Can't Decide

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint.  Today he can’t decide
if he should stay inside to work or should he go outside.
“Oh, dear,” he said, “I’ve no idea what I should paint next.”
He perched upon his painting stool and sat there sorely vexed.
 
A nice long walk might do him good.  He might see something nice,
and if he really liked it, he might even paint it twice.
In different colors, naturally, so they won’t be the same.
And even different sizes of two different picture frames.
 
He looked and looked, and searched and searched, but nothing did he find.
This nice long walk had surely failed to help him clear his mind.
But, wait!  What’s that just over there?  Could he believe his eyes?
His neighbor’s lovely garden had a zillion butterflies.
 
Out came his sketch book.  Sitting down upon a nearby curb,
He started drawing then and there, and tried to not disturb
the zillion pretty butterflies that perched upon the blooms.
Apparently, this charming sight had chased away his gloom.
 
He rushed back to his easel and took all his paint pots down,
And concentrating hard, he had a little forehead frown.
Just wanting happy colors, he threw all the rest away,
Like black and brown and darkest blue, and all the shades of gray.
 
This time he’d paint a masterpiece, was very sure he would.
He’d work real hard and concentrate the way he always should.
Let’s leave him now and come back soon.  We’ll see what Wally’s done.
It doesn’t matter what he paints.  We know he’s having fun.

Author Notes Wally's having problems today.




Chapter 4
Wally Weasel Paints the Beach

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint.  Today, he’s at the beach.
He’s standing on the seashore with his feet just out of reach
of lapping waves that grab his toes and get his tootsies wet.
Taking backward steps, and saying, “This is close as I will get.”
 
Just once had Wally walked along this lovely shore,
but he was such a little tot, and that was years before.
He’d forgotten how the hot sand felt beneath his little feet,
And how the waves washed in and out with such a lulling beat.
 
He loves the sea, the sky, the air, a happy little fellow.
Looking at the sunset, he sees orange, and red, and yellow.
Talking to himself, he says, “I’ll be a little bold,
and use a bit of purple and a little streak of gold.”
 
Well, the brushes swirl, his elbows fly, there’s sweat upon his brow.
Got to keep on painting, ‘cause he’s almost finished now.
This might just be the masterpiece he’s always thought he’d do.
Hang on.  Wait just a minute, now.  It needs a bit of blue.
 
At last, the painting’s finished. He’s preparing to go back,
so puts his paints and brushes in a great big burlap sack.
With it hanging from his shoulder, goes and picks his easel up.
Oh, my, almost forgotten is his li'l green cleaning cup.
 
Whatever we may think of Wally’s talent and his taste,
I think you’ll have to be impressed with how his brushes raced
across the canvas, leaving figures very bright and gay.
I truly think nobody paints in Wally’s special way.
 
Looking in his eyes, I see a little bitty tear.
Be quiet now.  Let’s slip away and leave him sitting here.
We’ll come again, and very soon, and ask if we can see
the picture Wally painted as he walked beside the sea.


Chapter 5
Wally Weasel Gets a Bike

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint, and really needs a bike
to carry all his stuff for him so he won’t have to hike
around with shoulder bags, or carts and wagons pulled behind him.
But, keep in mind, how he forgets.  Somebody must remind him
 
     to pack his pots and brushes, and his little easel, too,
or he’ll arrive without his things and won’t know what to do.
He has to learn to ride this bike - he never has before -
and doesn’t know that he will finish tired and bruised and sore.
 
He loves his bike – it’s bright and red.
He could have had it blue instead,
But, no, he had it in his head
To have a bright green seat.
 
He climbs upon the bright green seat and starts to pedal fast,
and since he’s going uphill, I don’t think that this will last.
He starts to weeble and to wobble, swerving all around.
The next thing Wally knows is that he’s flat upon the ground.
 
“Well, this won’t do,” he thinks out loud.  “I have to conquer this.
It might be that this bike is wrong, and something is amiss.”
He climbed back on to stick it out, the handles in his grip,
and suddenly he’s going downhill at a speedy clip.
 
“Oh, glory be!  Hey, look at me.  I’ve learned to ride this thing.”
And reaches over to his right to give the bell a ring.
Just then, he finds a place to paint.  It’s just the spot.
He looks at all his paints and then picks up the purple pot.
 
I don’t know what he’s painting, but I guess we’ll see someday.
Let’s go now.  Shhhh.  Don’t say a word.  We’ll just be on our way.

Author Notes


Chapter 6
Wally Weasel Goes to Biking School

By damommy

Wally learns ‘bout safety and the many traffic rules
of riding on his bike.  He has enrolled in biking school.
He learns to signal turning and to brake at all the stops
for people crossing over going to their favorite shops.
 
He knows he shouldn’t ride on sidewalks or in people’s yards
and he obeys the signals given by the crossing guards.
He won’t get into trouble if while riding he behaves
and does things right, not having any fright-en-ing close shaves.
 
He needs his bike to carry paints and all his other things.
The wildest thing that Wally does is make his bike bell ring.
He packs his burlap sack and little basket with his stuff
and checking over everything, it seems to be enough.
 
Now riding safely through the streets, a smile upon his face,
He doesn’t take the challenge of another biker’s race.
“It is not safe to ride like that,” and Wally just won’t do it.
And ped’ling calmly on his way, he leaves that biker to it.
 
Wally doesn’t want to lose his bike or ever get a ticket.
He’s headed down the road to reach his favorite forest thicket.
It’s here he wants to paint today, and sets up his supplies,
and starts by painting puffy clouds in perfectly blue skies.
 
He always thinks a masterpiece he’ll surely paint today.
But, bless his heart, he never does, but still he paints away.
We have to give him credit ‘cause he never does stop trying,
While most of us would just give up and have a fit of crying.
 
This just might be the day, you know, he paints that masterpiece.
He certainly puts his heart in it with lots of elbow grease.
I know he’s really trying ‘cause there’s sweat upon his brow.
Let’s sneak away and come again.  We’ll see what happens now.

Author Notes There is some unfinished business that Wally need to attend to, and then he'll get back to painting, his real love. 8-)


Chapter 7
Wally Weasel Goes to the Mountains

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint, but for today, he’d like a change,
So off he goes on his new bike up to the mountain range.
It’s all uphill – he didn’t think before he left to go
how hard he’d have to pedal up, but now he surely knows.
 
He’s never been this high before, right on the very crest,
so now he puts his bike aside, and sits down for a rest.
It seems to be the right spot here, a very pretty sight,
And going through his pots of paint, he chose the color white.
 
The clouds have never seemed so close, so puffy, and so round.
The wind was blowing through the trees, but not another sound
is heard by Wally as he works except some singing birds.
This place is quiet and peaceful, and his little heart is stirred.
 
He takes out blues and greens and reds - he cannot stop himself –
and lines them all up one by one upon the easel’s shelf.
The sky is blue, the meadow’s green, the birds are vivid red,
He even paints a yellow blossom hanging overhead.
 
Now looking at the valley, and it seems so far below,
there’s something moving ‘round down there, but what he doesn’t know.
He squints his eyes to better see, but still it’s just a blur.
The only thing he knows for sure is that it’s wearing fur.
 
So jumping on his bike, he starts to pedal fast downhill,
But just before the bottom, Wally takes a frightful spill.
He’s lying flat, his head a-spin, poor Wally’s seeing stars.
‘Cause just as he flew over them, he hit the handlebars.
 
He’s standing now and dusting off his little furry self.
Maybe what he saw down there was just a woodland elf.
He’ll take his painting home now and come back another day,
and maybe see what’s lurking there.  Just maybe . . .  Who’s to say?

Author Notes


Chapter 8
Wally Weasel Learns to Skate

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint.  He thinks he paints so well.
There’s other things that Wally does, and these he wants to tell.
He’s learned to ride his bike so he can carry paints and all.
Now he wants to roller skate but doesn’t want to fall.
 
A helmet he refuses ‘cause it musses up his hair.
He’s told he has to have one, that his head cannot be bare.
Deciding that it’s safer than a bump upon the head,
he bought one, and you’ll never guess - his helmet is bright red.
 
“If I can skate while painting, then I’ll finish twice as fast,
and can paint a lot more pictures than I have done in the past.
I’ll skate around the easel with my paints and brush in hand,
first this way and then that way.  Oh, it will be so grand.”
 
He puts his skates on, laces them, and tries to stay upright,
and quickly lands right on the floor.  It’s such a funny sight.
Our Wally doesn’t give up though, and rises to his feet.
The skates go two directions and lands him on his seat.
 
It’s time to go.  He needs to practice skating for a while.
This is what I heard him say - it really made me smile,
“I will not stop ‘til I know how, “I’ll show that I’m the smartest
to learn to skate and then become the world’s first rolling artist.”

Author Notes He's had a hard time learning to skate, but he's done it.



Chapter 9
Wally Weasel Learns to Cook

By damommy

Wally Weasel loves to paint, and now he wants to cook.
He’s trying out some recipes found in an old cookbook.
“It looks so easy,” Wally says, “I’ll give it a good try.
A dash of this, a dash of that, now put in pan to fry.”
 
Getting out the milk, our Wally pours it in two glasses,
And then he adds two tablespoons of sugar cane molasses.
Getting all the stuff mixed up, he sees he needs an egg,
but when he cracked it open, it ran down his furry leg.
 
To make things worse, he spilled the milk he’d poured into the glasses.
It all ran down his front and now he’s sticky with molasses.
By now, there’s such a mess, the biggest mess he’s ever seen.
He wiped it all up in a flash and got the kitchen clean.
 
He turns around to start again.  He’s staying with his plan.
He pours the stuff he mixed into an oven-ready pan.
“A piece of cake, it wasn’t hard, I know I can do that,”
And puts upon his little head his brand new cooking hat.
 
Ten minutes passed, he pulled it out and sat to take a bite.
It tasted so disgusting, it was clear it wasn’t right.
“This is hard. I just can’t do it,” little Wally said.
He goes into his studio to paint and clear his head.
 
He knows he must keep trying.  He can’t just give it up.
Back in the kitchen once again, he gets the measuring cup.
His next attempt turned out much better than the one before.
He doesn’t think he likes to cook, and starts to sweep the floor.
 
It’s clear his talents lie in using paint pot, brush, and easel.
I don’t think a cook we’ll make out of this little weasel.
But, try he did, and he tried hard, we must give Wally that.
Besides, he looked so darling in his little cooking hat.
 
Now, he’s gone to start a painting.  Wonder what it’ll be?
We’ll leave and come back later, and then maybe we can see.
There’s one thing Wally learned, and now he wants to share with you.
We all can’t be a big success at everything we do.
 
The important thing is that you do give everything a try,
And you’ll find out what you’re best at.  Just do it.  Don’t be shy.

Author Notes Still learning to sketch. Wally still loves to paint, but he thinks he needs to broaden his horizons. 8-)


Chapter 10
Wally Weasel Goes Skiing

By damommy

Wally still loves painting, but he’s now discovered sports.
He made his reservations at a faraway resort.
He’s never skied but has a book with lessons showing how.
After reading it two times plus one, he thinks he’s ready now.
 
With wooly scarf around his neck and hat upon his head,
he picks up shiny skis and poles that lay upon the bed.
Heading out to hit the slopes, he stops - ‘cause he’s decided
to wear his wooly socks so that his toes won’t get frost-bited.
 
He puts his ski poles in the snow and gives a great big push,
but all his effort got him was a wet, snow-covered tush.
Brushing off to go again, he says he will not quit.
This time he flies right down the slope – yes!  All two feet of it.
 
He did it!  He’s a skier now, and feeling very proud,
but that’s before he hears the laughter coming from the crowd.
It takes a lot of practice, as our little Wally knows,
and he’ll keep right on trying ‘til his weasel nose is froze.
 
With bended knees, he leans a little.  This time he will do it.
When he starts to fly downhill, he says, “There’s nothing to it.”
He turns this way, then turns that way, he’s graceful as a breeze.
He’s being very careful to not run into the trees.
 
With all the other things he’s learned,
he now feels life’s complete.
He’s shown the world that weasels, too, can be good athletes.
We’ll visit him another time and hear his tales of glory.
For now, we’ll have to wait.  Another time, another story.

Author Notes It took him a long time to learn to ski.




Chapter 11
Wally's Trip to the Mall

By damommy


Wally’s going to the mall today to buy some things he needs,
like toothpaste, soap, and bubble bath,
and packs of flower seeds.
The first thing in the store he sees - the big long escalator.
He says, “I’ll not ride on that thing with teeth like alligators.”
 
Pushed from behind, he’s on the thing and holding on so hard.
He thinks his little weasel nails have left the railing scarred.
“Oh, wait a minute.  I was wrong.  I think this ride is fun!”
He thinks when he gets off this time, he’ll ride another one.
 
The mall was crowded to the seams
It’s just the place of Wally’s dreams
He’s never seen so many stores
With clothes and toys and books galore.
 
He bought the things he needs at home. 
He even bought a fine-tooth comb.
But passing by the bath supplies,
he got perfume sprayed in his eyes.
He’s gonna smell like this all day,
and not his usual weasel way.
There’s hope that it will wear off soon,
but prob’ly not this afternoon.
 
Off to the food court.  Time to eat.
He found a place, an empty seat,
and took the menu, ordered lunch,
and set his bags down in a bunch.

Just then, he hears a loud, “Yoo-hoo! 
Hey, Wally, what are you up to?”
It’s Willy Wolff, his childhood friend,
and this is how the day will end.
 
We’ll leave these friends to catch up on
the things each other's done.
It’s been so long since they have met,
they’ll talk 'til dawn, I bet. 

Author Notes See Wally in the mall?

I had to break the lines up because they were too long to read. A smaller font made it hard to read, too. 8-)

Wally's friend is named after SweetLinda's husband. 8-)

Artwork from Google.


Chapter 12
Wally Finds a Pet

By damommy

While riding on his bike one day, he heard a funny sound.
Where is that strange sound coming from? 
He started looking ‘round.
Beneath a shaking bush he saw a skinny, scaly tail,
The other end was hidden
but it made the loudest wail.
 
He reached to take the tiny thing. 
It was the oddest critter.
“Oh, dear, I fear that you have strayed
too far from mom and litter.
Wally’s never seen a creature without any fur.
There’s just one thing he needs to know -
is it a him or her?
 
The little armadillo started purring like a cat.
It’s true that when they’re happy,
they will make a sound like that.
“I think I’ll call you Willow.  It’s a favorite name of mine.
Willow Armadillo -
I think that sounds just fine.”
 
Our Wally and his Willow are so glad they found each other.
Every night, he prays that he'll be a worthy foster “mother.”
Today, they’ll turn the sprinkler on
and end up soaking wet.
This will be the fun-nest day
that either one's had yet.
 
He has a plan for later on –
this may cause you to faint.
When she’s older, Wally thinks he’ll teach her how to paint!
It’s bedtime for our Wally and his little armadillo.
He made a fluffy bed for her
and called it “arma-pillow.”
 
Let’s go now and leave them alone. 
They have so much to do.
There’re lots of things that they can do together,
just them two.
When we come back, I’m sure they’ll tell us
all the things they’ve done,
and how they learned two having fun
is better than just one.

 
 

Author Notes Wally needed someone to keep him company and share his interests. He's found the perfect little critter. 8-)


Chapter 13
Wally Cleans His Room

By damommy


When he woke up on Tuesday, Wally looked around his room.
It really was a mess
and so he went to get his broom.
All his cleaning items went into his purple pail,
the dustpan in his right hand,
and the dust cloths on his tail.
 
He hung his clothes up in the closet, placing them just right,
swept and mopped and dusted,
and then polished things so bright.
 
Next was putting all the toys in toy chests where they should be,
When he finished, Wally thought his room was clean as could be.
 
His bed was made, the pillows fluffed,
the floor was clear of all the stuff.
He thought that he had done enough.
“I am so proud of me.”
 
Picking up the broom and mop, he tripped and hit the floor,
gave his head a great big whack,
his tail caught in the door.
He got up carefully and put his cleaning things away.
“I tidied up my room real nice.  Now I can go and play.”
 
In his lime green studio, he took out all his paint pots.
The last thing that he painted looked like it could use a spot
of color added here and there to make it better yet.
Now it had to sit a while because the paint was wet.
 
Wally’s glad he cleaned his room ‘cause now it’s spic and span.
 The job was easier than he thought it’d be when he began.
 
He needs to tidy up each day
He’ll keep his bedroom neat that way
He plans to clean it on Tuesday
of each and every week.

Author Notes Wally learns to keep him room clean.


Chapter 14
Around His World in Half a Day

By damommy


Wally’s being daring now. 
          He got his courage up somehow
to ride high in an air balloon. 
          It will be leaving very soon.
 
Boards the gondola,* sits down,
          then looks around with worried frown.
He starts to feel a little fear,
          but he’ll keep on now that he’s here.
 
Off it goes!  He grips the ropes
          And holding tightly, firmly hopes
he’ll make it back home safe and sound.
          When he does, he’ll kiss the ground.
 
He floats above his neighborhood.
          His little house looks really good.
(it looks so different from up here.
          How tiny all those homes appear.)
 
Wally jumps up on the ledge
          and leans too far across the edge.
His little arms begin to flail,
          but someone grabs him by the tail.

"See here, young man, sit down.  Behave.
          You're lucky I was here to save
you falling without parachute.
          Your little bottom needs a boot."

Wally knows that he’s done wrong,
           and sits right down where he belongs.
His face is red, to say the least.
           He’s been a naughty little beast.
 
“I love this pretty scenery
And all the lovely greenery
The clouds, they look so creamery.
I think we’re going east.”
 
He loves this feel of floating high
           up in the sky where birdies fly.
Some sights he’d never seen before.
           This ride’s more fun than he’d hoped for.
               
Wally’s learned his lesson well
           And to you all he wants to tell
how lovely this air ride has been.
           He’ll ride this air balloon again.
 
We’ll leave him now and come back soon
           to hear about the big balloon.
Our Wally’s been a pioneer
          for little weasels everywhere.     

 
 *gondola is the big basket Wally rode in

Author Notes A silly story about Wally Weasel and his escapades. He's trying new things aside from his painting.


Chapter 15
Wally Went Visiting

By damommy

You’ll never guess where Wally went this very afternoon.
His time there was so pleasant
and he wants to go back soon.

It came to him that he had time and lots of love to give,
and so he went to this new place
where lots of old folks live.
 
He read to ones who couldn’t see.  He read out loud and clear,
‘cause some of them were nearly deaf;
he wanted them to hear.

They talked about the things he’d read,
discussed the good and bad,
and told him that his reading was the best they’d ever had.
 
He helped them walk along the halls,
made sure they didn’t fall,
and carried all the things they needed, walking sticks and all.

He fetched them things,
he helped them eat,
he tucked them into bed,
made sure they had a fluffy pillow underneath their head.
 
He listened while they told of days
when they were very young,
the kinds of games they played,
and Wally thought they sounded fun.

Our Wally listened closely and he liked the tales he heard.
They had so many things to share - he hung on every word.
 
Wally’s home, and in his little lime green studio
and busy at his easel painting things he wants to show.

He hopes you see how great it is to give these people joy,
and they, in turn,
think Wally is a very special boy.

Author Notes Wally realized he had time to spare, and with his loving little heart, he chose the old folks home.




Chapter 16
Wally's Garden

By damommy


Not giving up on painting,
Wally wants a garden now.
He needs to dig a flower bed,
but doesn’t have a plow.

In his little storage house,
he takes the tools he needs.
Rolling out his wheelbarrow,
he has six packs of seeds.
 
Taking out the pick and shovel,
starts to work the dirt.
His face and hands are smudgy,
and he tore his purple shirt.

He digs and shovels piles of soil -
this work is very hard –
but think of all the flower beds
he’ll have in his back yard.
 
He gives his pick a hefty swing,
and gets a mighty shock.
There, beneath his weasel feet
is one humongous rock!

He pushed at it and pulled at it,
but move it he cannot.
This rock won’t budge no matter what.
It must stay in this spot.
 
Sitting in the green chair on his porch to rest a bit,
he just can’t think of what to do
and finally must admit
this boulder’s here to stay
and now he has to change his plan.

I’ll simply plant around it,
make it look the best I can.
 
He smooths the flower bed and then
makes holes to plant his flowers.
Having thirty-one,
it takes three-quarters of an hour.

Standing back and looking,
Wally thinks he’s done quite good.
His yard will be the envy of the entire neighborhood.
 
Wally sees when things don’t go
the way he thought they would,
he tries to think of other ways
that work to make it good.

Grumbling, throwing fits,
or pouting never gets it done.
Finishing the job -
rule number one for having fun.
 

Author Notes There's no end to what Wally can do. 8-)


Chapter 17
Wally's Back Home

By damommy


Wally has been gone a while.  Was he missed at all?
He left because he answered to a most important call.
The Institute of Weasel Artists asked if he would show
the little weasels how to paint and teach them all he knows.
 
Sweet Wally said he’d love to and he packed bags right away.
He rode a bus to get there.  It would only take one day.
His brought his paints and palette, they were stored away unseen.
In his lap, he tightly held his cleaning cup that’s green.
 
The first day in the classroom, all the little weasels sat
and waited while the teacher on his head put his blue hat.
He sat the easel up and painted swishes here and there.
The little weasels were amazed, could only sit and stare.
 
“Now, see here, class,” our Wally said,
“you must paint from your heart.
Some color here, some color there, we’ll place them far apart,
and then you find a way to make the colors all connect.
Right here, I’ll paint some flowers and a tiny red insect.
 
The days went by and Wally taught the little weasels art.
He couldn’t teach them everything, but gave them a good start.
The youngsters took their brush in hand,
put on their wee blue caps,
but first, they filled their cleaning cups with water from the tap.
 
They sat down and began to paint the things they liked the best,
and painted from their little hearts, forgot about the rest.
When Wally checked what they had done,
he saw with great delight
the little ones had painted well. 
One did a bright red kite.
 
Some had painted trees and clouds, and nine did flow’ring plants,
and bumblebees and butterflies, and one pink tiny ant.
The teacher, Wally, bragged on them
and told them they were good.
When he said good-bye to them,
the little weasels stood.
 
 They had enjoyed their class so much they wanted him to stay.
He said, “I will be back someday,” and then he went away.
He’s home again, unpacked, and now he’s settling down to rest.
It’s comforting to be back in his humble little nest.
 
Wally has a lot to tell.  We’ll hear about it later.
I know there is a story about painting alligators.
There is so much we want to hear about the class he taught,
about the little weasels and heart-warming joy they brought.
 
We’ll go now and come back on Tuesday when he has some time
to tell us all about it, and he might tell it in rhyme.
Won’t that be fun, sweet boys and girls,
to see what weasels learned?
If Wally has another class,
it just might be your turn.
 
 

Author Notes


Chapter 18
Wally Weasel's Vacation

By damommy


While sitting by a running brook,
wee Wally Weasel took a look
at things to do on holiday,
decided then to go away.
 
He traveled near, he traveled far. 
He rode a bike, he went by car,
got on a plane and flew away,
and came back home that very day.
 
The first day out, his tires went flat.
While fixing that, he lost his hat.
He chased it down, and hurt his knee,
and then got stung by a bumble bee.
 
Explored a place where caves abound,
meandering deep underground.
Some bats flew out before the night,
came back before dawn’s early light.
 
He took a plane to parachute,
and looked so cute in his orange suit.
Before he jumped, he said a prayer,
and landed in the courthouse square.
 
The fishing trip was so much fun,
just sitting in the morning sun.
He threw his line with bobble float,
and lay back in his pea green boat.
 
He never left!  He dreamed it all
while snoozing by the waterfall.
 

Author Notes Another chapter in Wally's life.

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