The toys piled up. The game went on.
Something Bigger
“Throw that one back,” Pip said.
Milo tucked the little striped ball beneath his chin. He had spotted something better behind the toy house: a pink beach ball almost as tall as himself.
“This one’s bigger.”
“I can see.”
“It’ll be a better throw.”
Pip kept her paws raised while he pulled the pink ball free. It came out with a soft squeak, rubbing against the green roof of the house. Beneath their feet, a broad wooden building block made a level platform near the top of the toy mountain.
Milo put the striped ball beside his toes and lifted the pink one.
Pip spread her arms wider.
The Pink One
He pushed it towards her with both paws.
For a moment, the enormous pink ball hid Pip entirely. Then her feet appeared beneath it, followed by one ear.
“I’ve caught it,” she said.
“I can’t see.”
“Neither can I.”
She lowered it enough to look over the top. Milo was grinning. He had imagined a magnificent throw, with Pip stepping backwards in surprise. Instead, she seemed to have acquired a wall.
“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded.
She rolled it across the platform. He stopped it against his belly, and they stood looking at each other over its glossy curve.
Somewhere below them, a toy car slid a short way into a hollow. Its wheels clicked against a row of coloured rings.
Milo glanced towards a yellow duck-shaped float.
Pip followed his eyes.
“That one has a head.”
“I hadn’t said anything.”
“You were thinking.”
She could usually tell. Before coming up here, he had tried to persuade her that the stuffed elephant would make an excellent passenger for her little train. Its feet had occupied three carriages.
Pip had kept the elephant. The train was still waiting underneath it.
Behind His Back
Milo wedged the pink ball between the toy house and a soft blue cushion. When he turned round, Pip had picked up the striped one.
“My turn.”
He held out his paws.
She sent it straight towards his nose.
He caught it against his chest, laughing as its cool plastic brushed his chin. The ball fitted neatly between his paws. He turned it so the yellow stripe faced her, then hid it behind his back.
“Which paw?”
“Both.”
He looked offended.
“You haven’t looked.”
“I know how big your paws are.”
He brought them forward, empty.
For a moment, Pip stared. Then she noticed the ball tucked beneath his upper arm.
She laughed and reached for it. He lifted his elbow, letting it drop into his waiting paw, and tossed it before she had quite finished laughing.
She caught it crookedly against one shoulder.
“Again,” Milo said.
“Oh, now you want it back.”
The Next Catch
Their throws grew quicker. Pip sent one high enough to make him stretch; Milo returned it low, and she scooped it up beside her knee.
From the foot of the mountain, Mum called them down for tea.
Pip caught the next throw and held it.
“One more?” Milo asked.
She looked towards the voice, then at him.
“One.”
He spread his paws, ready.
Pip threw. He caught it cleanly, smiling, and immediately raised his arm to send it back.
She opened her mouth to remind him.
Then she raised her paws.
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