Bearry Review

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time he felt Bearry’s soft fur. He remembered the snack. He remembered the tag. And then, he remembered the second snack. "The laundry basket!" Remo whispered.

Remo started to feel frustrated. His shoulders felt tight, and his heart was beating fast. He wanted to shout, but he remembered what his mommy said: “When you lose something, stop, breathe, and think it through.” Remo took a deep breath. In... out.

Remo’s hand met empty air. He sat up. He looked left. He looked right. He looked under the cozy blue blanket. Bearry was not there. "Bearry?" Remo asked, his voice shaking just a little. Bearry

He ran to the hallway. There, sitting perfectly on top of the pile of clean clothes, was Bearry. He looked very cozy, almost like he had fallen asleep waiting to be brought back.

Mom appeared in the doorway. "Oh no! Where did you have him last?" He closed his eyes and tried to remember

Bearry wasn’t just a toy. Bearry was a guardian. He had fuzzy brown ears that smelled faintly of maple syrup, one button eye that hung a little loose, and the best hugging arms in the world. Without Bearry, the shadows in the corner of the room looked suspiciously like closet monsters. Without Bearry, his teddy bear duty roster—protecting from spiders and bad dreams—was completely unstaffed. "Mom!" Remo called out. "Bearry is missing!"

After a long day of building pillow forts, chasing imaginary dragons, and eating peanut butter crackers, six-year-old Remo was ready for bed. He brushed his teeth— chka-chka-chka —put on his rocket ship pajamas, and hopped into bed. And then, he remembered the second snack

Inside the fort? No. Behind the couch? Just a lost Lego. The Bathroom: On the sink? Nope.