Ava and the Unexpected Tomorrow

Ava and the Unexpected Tomorrow

by

Patches the Story Dog

Patches the Story Dog

A story about Anxiety

for your Preschooler

Preschooler Anxiety

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Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, sits at a big bright kitchen table covered in crayons and paper, happily holding a yellow crayon and smiling at a wobbly sun she just drew. In the background, a cozy sunlit kitchen with colorful drawings taped to the walls — wobbly suns, lopsided cats, and rainbow flowers.

Ava loves to draw. She draws wobbly suns. She draws lopsided cats. She draws rainbow flowers that dance right off the paper. Her bright kitchen table is covered in crayons and paper, and every color makes her smile.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, sits at the big bright kitchen table looking down at a blank piece of white paper, holding a crayon hesitantly with a worried, uncertain expression on her face. In the background, a cozy sunlit kitchen with colorful drawings taped to the walls.

But today something feels different. Ava picks up a crayon. She puts it down. She picks it up again. Her belly feels wiggly. Her belly feels tight. Like a little knot that won't come loose.

A small red backpack with a shiny zipper sits on the floor beside a chair leg, a pair of little shoes placed neatly next to it, ready for tomorrow. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen floor with warm light streaming in.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow Ava goes to a new school. New room. New faces. New everything. What will it look like? What will it sound like? Ava just doesn't know yet.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, leans over the big bright kitchen table, pressing a crayon to paper where a simple door shape is half-drawn, her hand paused mid-stroke and her brow furrowed. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen with crayons scattered across the table.

Ava tries to draw what tomorrow might look like. She draws a door. But what is behind the door? Her crayon stops. She draws a table. But who sits at the table? Her crayon stops again. It is hard to draw something you don't know yet.

Puddle, a round fluffy orange cat with big green eyes, is curled up on a kitchen chair right next to the big bright kitchen table, eyes half-closed, purring softly. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen with crayons and paper on the table.

Puddle the cat jumps up on the chair beside her. Purrrr. Puddle is soft and warm. But wait — sometimes even Puddle hides under the blanket when things feel new and strange. Like when the thunder goes BOOM. Or when a new sound comes from outside. Even Puddle gets wiggly feelings!

A big puffy white cloud with a funny ticklish face — squinty eyes and a wobbly grin — drifts across a warm sky, looking like it might giggle at any moment. In the background, a warm sky with soft drifting clouds and the top of a big leafy tree in the yard.

Ava looks out the window. Up in the warm sky, soft clouds drift by. One cloud has a funny, ticklish face! It looks a little wiggly too. Ava whispers, "Do you feel wiggly, cloud?" The cloud seems to wiggle just a tiny bit. Even clouds get wiggly sometimes.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, looks up from the big bright kitchen table at her mama, one small hand resting on her own belly, her mouth open as if saying something important. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen with colorful drawings on the walls.

Then Mama comes and sits down beside her. Mama's hands are warm. Mama smells like something sweet. "What are you drawing?" Mama asks. Ava looks at her paper. She looks at her belly. She takes a deep breath. "My belly feels wiggly," Ava says. Those are brave, simple words.

A warm grown-up hand gently resting on top of a small child's hand on the big bright kitchen table, beside scattered crayons and a half-drawn picture of a door. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen table with paper and crayons.

Mama does not try to make it go away. Mama does not say, "Don't worry!" Mama puts her hand on Ava's hand. Soft and steady. "That's okay," Mama says. "Wiggly bellies happen to everyone. Even mamas." Even mamas! That is a big surprise.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, draws energetically on the paper at the big bright kitchen table, a scribbly swirly purple cloud taking shape under her purple crayon, her expression focused and relieved. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen with colorful drawings on the walls.

"Can we draw it?" Mama asks. "Can we draw what the wiggly feeling looks like?" Ava picks up a purple crayon. She makes swirls. She makes scribbles. Round and round and round. A scribbly, swirly purple cloud appears on the paper. "That is my wiggly feeling," Ava says.

A piece of white paper on the big bright kitchen table showing a scribbly, swirly purple cloud drawn in crayon, with scattered purple crayon shavings around it. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen table with other crayons and drawings nearby.

Ava looks at the scribbly, swirly purple cloud. It is just a drawing on paper. The wiggly feeling is still there — but something is different now. It feels a little smaller. Not gone. But smaller. Sometimes when you share a feeling, it doesn't have to be so big all by itself.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, carefully tucks a folded piece of paper into a small red backpack with a shiny zipper, Puddle the round fluffy orange cat with big green eyes watching from the floor nearby. In the background, the cozy sunlit kitchen with warm light on the floor.

Ava folds the picture carefully. She tucks it into her small red backpack with the shiny zipper. Now her wiggly feeling has a place to go. And if the wiggles come back tomorrow — at the new room, with the new faces — she can take a deep breath. She can tell someone. She can ask for help. That is always okay.

Ava, a smart baby girl with bright curious eyes, stands at a window holding her mama's hand, looking out at a sky turning soft pink and gold, the big leafy tree in the yard silhouetted against the glowing sky, her small red backpack with the shiny zipper sitting by her feet. In the background, a warm sky painted in soft pink and gold with the funny ticklish-faced cloud drifting far away.

Ava stands at the window. The warm sky is turning soft pink and gold. Tomorrow is still out there, big and new and unknown. Her belly is still a little wiggly. But she is also a little brave. She holds Mama's hand. She whispers, "I don't know what will happen… but I have my crayons."

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