Gus and the Cloud Blanket

“Achoo!” said Gus, and the cloud he had been carrying became a giant cloud mustache.

His little sister, Poppy, giggled. “You look like a very fluffy walrus.”

Gus tried to grin, but the cloud tickled his nose. “I’m trying to make you a blanket,” he said. “A cozy one, just your size, before bedtime.”

They stood in a high mountain meadow where clouds floated so low that even a young giant could reach up and scoop one down. Gus had gathered three. One was long and flat, one was round as a dumpling, and one had a little tail that looked like a fish.

Poppy patted the flat cloud. “This one could be the blanket’s middle.”

“Good thinking,” Gus said. He stretched it across the meadow grass. Then he leaned closer to smooth the edge.

His nose wiggled.

“Uh-oh,” said Poppy.

“Achoo!”

The cloud shot up like a kite. The round cloud spun after it, and the fish-tailed cloud looped around Gus’s head.

“Now you look like a cloud parade,” Poppy said.

Gus peeled the clouds off his ears. “I’m sorry. I keep blowing them away.”

“Maybe they’re playing tag,” Poppy said, chasing the fishy cloud. It sailed just above her fingers, then bumped gently into a patch of mountain grass.

Gus tried again. He brought down the round cloud and held it very carefully between his hands. Poppy stood ready with the flat one.

“Slow and steady,” Gus whispered.

“Slow and steady,” Poppy echoed.

Gus leaned toward the cloud. His nose gave a twitch. He pinched it shut, but a sneeze burst out anyway.

“Achoo!”

The clouds tumbled together. The flat one folded like a taco. The round one rolled across the meadow, and the fishy one landed on Poppy’s head like a silly hat.

A giggle burst out of Poppy, and she plopped onto the grass. Gus sat beside her, looking at the scattered clouds.

“I want you to have a blanket,” he said. “But my sneezes keep making a mess.”

Poppy lifted her cloud hat and studied the clouds. “Wait,” she said. “Maybe that mess is trying to show us something.”

Poppy pointed to the round cloud. When Gus had sneezed, it had puffed up as it bounced. Now it sat in the grass, plump and square, with a soft-looking dip in the middle.

“It’s a pillow!” Poppy said.

Gus leaned closer. “It is.”

“And your sneeze made it puff up,” Poppy said. She patted the cloud with both hands. It sprang back into shape. “Maybe your sneeze isn’t only a cloud-blower. Maybe it can be a cloud-fluffer.”

Gus’s eyebrows rose. “You mean I could use it on purpose?”

“Maybe,” said Poppy. “But let’s try with a little cloud. And you have to warn me first.”

Gus looked at the smallest cloud drifting over the grass. It was no bigger than a laundry basket. His nose tickled again, and he felt a sneeze gathering.

“I’m going to sneeze,” he warned.

Poppy ducked behind a boulder. “Ready!”

Gus turned away from her and aimed toward the little cloud. “Achoo!”

The cloud puffed up like bread in an oven. It swelled into a thick, fluffy cushion and bobbed gently down onto the meadow.

Poppy peeked around the boulder. “It worked!”

Gus smiled. “Let’s make the blanket together.”

They brought the flat cloud down for the middle. Gus gave it one careful, warned sneeze. “Sneeze coming!”

Poppy stepped to the side. “Go ahead!”

“Achoo!”

The cloud puffed into a wide, warm-looking sheet. Poppy patted one edge while Gus patted the other. Whenever a corner folded, they pressed it flat. When the fish-tailed cloud tried to scoot away, Poppy caught it by its tail and laid it across the foot of the blanket.

“Now it has a fancy border,” she said.

Gus’s nose gave another wiggle. This time he didn’t panic. He turned toward a little cloud beside the blanket.

“I’m going to sneeze,” he called.

Poppy held the blanket’s edge. “We’re ready!”

“Achoo!”

The little cloud puffed up, and they patted it into place. Gus and Poppy smoothed the blanket from top to bottom. It was long enough for both of them, and the cloud pillow fit neatly at one end.

Poppy ran a hand across the finished blanket. “You made it, Gus!”

“We made it,” he said.

They carried the cloud blanket to a hollow between two grassy hillocks. It was a snug place with a view of the mountain peaks and the open sky. Gus set the pillow at one end, and Poppy climbed beneath the blanket.

“Is it cozy?” Gus asked.

Poppy tucked the cloud around her shoulders. “It’s like being hugged by a very large marshmallow.”

Gus lay beside her, careful not to press too hard. The blanket rose over them in a little white hill. Above it, loose clouds moved slowly past, their edges changing as they went.

Poppy leaned close and whispered, “That cloud has a turtle’s shell and head.”

Gus followed her gaze. “With a long neck?”

“Maybe it’s stretching.”

A different cloud crossed the moon and made the mountain meadow look quieter. Poppy settled her cheek on the puffed cloud pillow. It held her gently, then bounced a little when she wriggled into a comfortable spot.

“Your sneeze made the very best pillow,” she murmured.

Gus smiled. “I’m glad it didn’t fly away.”

“I’m glad you warned me,” Poppy said. “That helped me know when to pat the clouds.”

The wind moved through the grass with a hush-hush sound. Gus listened to it for a while. Poppy pointed out one cloud shaped like a spoon and another like a tiny mountain. Neither one came close enough to catch, and they didn’t need any more clouds tonight.

Poppy yawned beneath the blanket. Gus pulled the edge up to her chin.

“Good night, little sister,” he said.

“Good night, Gus.”

His nose gave one small twitch. Gus tucked his sneeze into his elbow and let out a tiny “Achoo!” A little cloud curled over their toes like a quilted foot warmer.

Poppy smiled without opening her eyes. Gus settled beside her, and they watched the clouds pass until the meadow grew still around them.