Cleo’s Welcome Mat

Cleo had made a welcome mat so leafy and wide that three little dinosaurs could sit on it at once. She had woven soft grass through the leaves and tucked a yellow flower into one corner. The mat rested beside a ferny nest in a prehistoric meadow, where the morning sun warmed the tall grasses.

“Is it ready?” Cleo asked her mother, who was arranging the eggs in the nest.

“It’s ready for whoever is ready to come out,” said her mother.

Cleo’s friend Moss was still inside one of the eggs. His mother, Luma, watched over it with a gentle smile. All around them, the other eggs began to wiggle.

Tap-tap-tap! went one.

Crick! went another.

A tiny nose poked through a shell, then a pair of sleepy eyes. Soon three baby dinosaurs tumbled into the nest, blinking at the bright morning.

“Welcome!” cried Cleo. She spread her arms toward the mat. “There’s room for everyone!”

The new babies toddled over and plopped down. One sat on the yellow flower. Another leaned against Cleo’s tail. Their little feet made the woven leaves rustle.

Cleo looked back at Moss’s egg. It sat quietly among the ferns.

“Maybe he’s getting ready,” she whispered.

She stood beside it and called, “Hello, Moss! Your mat is waiting!” Then she did a little welcome dance, with a stomp, a wiggle, and a hop. Her friends clapped their tiny feet.

But Moss’s egg did not move.

The sun climbed higher. The meadow hummed with insects, and a breeze tickled the ferns. Cleo brushed a speck of dirt from the egg and peeked at the mat. The new babies were sharing it nicely, but there was still a soft, leafy space waiting just for Moss.

“He’ll come soon,” Cleo said, though she wasn’t quite sure. She wanted Moss to see the mat, hear the cheering, and join his friends while the morning was still bright.

So Cleo stayed close, watching the quiet egg and waiting for the next little crack.

By late morning, the three new babies had explored the nest. They sniffed a clover leaf, practiced wobbly steps, and came back to the mat for a rest.

Cleo tried another welcome. She stood on a flat rock and called, “Moss, listen! We’re having a very quiet parade!” The babies tiptoed past the egg, each holding a feather. Cleo marched last, as softly as she could.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe a song?” Cleo asked. She sang a tune about sunny puddles and sleepy beetles. Then she sang it louder. Then she sang it in a silly squeaky voice that made the babies giggle.

Moss’s egg stayed still.

Cleo’s smile drooped. She wanted to help, but all her dancing and singing seemed to do nothing. She leaned close to the egg.

“Come on, Moss,” she whispered. “Everyone else is already out.”

Luma touched Cleo’s shoulder gently. “Moss will come when he’s ready,” she said. “We can’t hurry him.”

Cleo sat beside the egg. The afternoon light stretched across the nest, but the egg rested in the cool shade of a broad fern. Cleo noticed that a patch of sunshine fell nearby, warm and golden. She remembered how she liked to nap in a sunny spot after a long morning.

“Maybe Moss needs a comfier place,” she said. “Not a louder welcome.”

Cleo looked at Luma. “May I move the mat into that sunny patch? Then Moss can have a warm place to land when he’s ready.”

Luma nodded. “That sounds kind. Let’s make sure the nest stays soft.”

Together, they lifted the leafy mat. Cleo held one end in her little arms while Luma guided the other. They set it down where the sunshine made the leaves glow. Cleo patted the mat flat and tucked the yellow flower back into its corner.

Then she settled nearby, quiet as a sleeping pebble. The babies curled together on the far side of the nest. Luma sat beside Moss’s egg, and Cleo rested her chin on her hands.

The sun warmed the shell. A tiny sound came from inside.

Cleo held still.

Crick.

A fine crack appeared near the top.

Cleo’s eyes grew round, but she did not call out or jump up. She kept her hands in her lap and let the quiet stay quiet.

A moment passed. Then another.

The crack lengthened, and a small piece of shell tipped away. Moss poked out a nose the color of soft brown earth. He sniffed the air, blinked at the golden light, and gave a tiny peep.

“Hello, Moss,” Cleo whispered.

Moss rested his chin on the edge of his shell. He looked at Luma, then at Cleo. His little feet wriggled as he pushed gently. At last, he stepped out into the nest, still wearing a small bit of shell like a hat.

The other babies watched with quiet smiles. Cleo waited until Moss had taken a breath and looked around.

“Would you like to sit on my mat?” she asked. “There’s a soft place just for you.”

Moss followed her toward the sunny patch. Cleo walked slowly, making sure he had time to look at the ferns, the flower, and the bright meadow beyond the nest. When he reached the mat, he touched one leafy edge with his nose.

“It’s cozy,” he said.

Cleo’s heart felt light. “I made it for you, too.”

Moss settled beside her. The mat rustled softly under them. Soon the other little dinosaurs came over and sat nearby, leaving Moss plenty of room. Luma watched from the nest, pleased, while the long afternoon turned a warm shade of gold.

Cleo showed Moss the yellow flower. She showed him how the leaves were woven together, and how one corner made a perfect pillow. Moss listened, then leaned his cheek against the mat.

The meadow grew quieter. Insects hummed low in the grass. The ferns swayed, and the last stripes of sunset slid across the nest, warming Cleo’s back and Moss’s shell.

Moss curled beside Cleo on the leafy mat. She rested her head near his, glad that the welcome had waited for him. Around them, the nest grew still, and the little dinosaurs drifted into sleep beneath the evening sky.