Baby, Come Back (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

 Baby, Come Back can be chanted during playtime or sung (to the tune of the Scottish folk song "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean") during naptime. Substitute your child's name for "baby".

 

photo by ldyck

 

Baby, Come Back

 My baby swam across the ocean

My baby dived into the sea

My baby swam across the ocean

Oh, baby, come back to me, to me

Oh, baby, come back to me.

My baby climbed over the mountain

My baby climbed over the hill

My baby climbed over the mountain

Oh, baby, come back to me, to me

Oh, baby, come back to me

My baby flew into the night sky

My baby swung on a star

My baby flew into the night sky

Oh, baby, you flew too far, too far

Oh, baby, you flew too far

My baby swam across the ocean

My baby climbed over the hill

My baby flew out of the night sky

Oh, my baby, came back to me, to me

Hurray, my baby came back to me.

photo by ldyck

Me reading to a dear friend (circa 1990s)

About the author...

Leanne Dyck studied children's literature at the University of Winnipeg, was the sole proprietor of a children's literature bookseller business, and read scores of picture books to groups of children during her fourteen-year career in Early Childhood Education. 

"Abby" by ldyck

International Day of Peace

A J Willetts (my dad) an advocate for world peace

My dad read his speech during a Remembrance Day service, but it is equal appropriate for today. 

On this blog in September...

Marion, My Day Care Friend (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

This story was inspired by my career in Early Childhood Education, specifically in Infant Day Care. I wrote it to help transition families from home care to daycare. The story is intended for children who have outgrown board books but are not yet ready for picture books.

photo by ldyck

Marion, My Daycare Friend

Marion holds me while Mom says goodbye.

"Wa-a-a," I say. "Wa-a-a."

Marion says, "We'll see you soon, Mom."

Marion turns up the music, and we dance.

One block, two blocks, three. Marion builds a tower. She waits for me to knock it down. We laugh.

"Wa-a-a," I say. "Wa-a-a."

Marion sings, "If you're hungry and you know it, say wa-a-a, wa-a-a."

Sometimes Marion feeds me. Sometimes I help her. Sometimes I feed myself.

Marion washes my hands and face. Peek-a-boo!

Marion puts toys in the box. I dump them out. Marion puts toys in the box. I dump them out. We love this game.

"Wa-a-a," I say. "Wa-a-a."

Marion smells my diaper. "Oh, poopie." She makes a silly face, and we laugh. "Time to go to the change table," Marion says.

Sometimes I hold my diaper. Sometimes I don't.

One arm, two arms. Marion helps me put on my jacket. I go for a ride in the stroller with my friends. 

Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.

Marion says, "Look at the bird fly."

Woof. Woof. Woof.

Marion says, "Hello, dog."

Two arms, one arm. Marion helps me take off my jacket.

"Wa-a-a," I say. "Wa-a-a."

Marion sings, "If you're tired and you know it, say, wa-a-a, wa-a-a."

Marion and I like to cuddle when I drink my bottle. Soon, I'm fast asleep. Marion carries me to the nap room and puts me in my crib. 

When I wake up, I see Mom.

Marion says, "See you tomorrow," and waves goodbye.

About the author...

Leanne Dyck studied children's literature at the University of Winnipeg, was the sole proprietor of a children's literature bookseller business, and read scores of picture books to groups of children during her fourteen-year career in Early Childhood Education. 

photo by ldyck

Terry Fox

On this blog in September...

Walks with my Friend (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

Walks with my Friend follows two dogs, fearful Abby and confident Reba, as they take their daily walks. Abby explains how Reba helped her become more confident. Walks with My Friend was inspired by the friendship between my dog and a dog from the neighbourhood.

photo by ldyck

 Walks with my Friend

I like going for walks with my friend Reba. I wait patiently while Reba’s leash is clipped on, give her a quick kiss, and then off we go.

Walking beside my friend makes me feel big, makes me feel important, makes me feel loved.

Woof. Woof. Woof.

Who’s— Who’s that?

A brown dog charges at us. “Hey, who’s the new kid? What’s her name?”

He’s so big. I put my tail between my legs. Will he bite me? I hide in the tall grass.

Reba’s head is high. “Hi, Buster.” Reba’s tail is fanned out. “This is my friend Abby, and we’re going for a walk.” She stands between Buster and me.

I climb out of the grass, fan out my tail, and walk beside my friend.

Bang. Crash. Bang. Bang.

What’s—. What’s that?

A large truck barrels down the road right—right at me. I freeze. I can’t move a paw. I can barely breathe.

Reba nudges me to the side of the road. She stands there with her tail fanned out and her head held high. She stands beside me until the truck drives by.

Every day I tell my human, “Now. Now. We need to go now. We need to take Reba for a walk.”

Now when we meet Buster, I keep my tail fanned out. I meet his eyes and say, “Hi, Buster. How are you today?”

And when we meet a crash-bang truck, I’ve learned to hop to the side of the road and give it room to drive away.

But—. But… One day, Reba tells me. “I have some bad news. I’m moving away.”

We howl together for a while because we’re sad. Then Reba gives me a kiss and says, “I’m so proud of you. You’re a good dog. You’re a brave dog. You’re a good friend.”

“I am?”

Reba looks me in the eyes. “You’re a good dog. You’re a brave dog. You’re a good friend.”

Her words go into my ears and reach my heart. “I am a good dog. I am a brave dog. I am a good friend.”

Now I go for walks without Reba, but I’ll never forget the lessons she taught me. I keep my tail fanned out. I keep my head held high. I am a good dog. I am a brave dog. I am a good friend to Buster.

Photo by Byron

Without a reader,

a writer's words mean

Nothing

On this blog in March...

Sunday, March 16

Sam (short memoir)

Do you remember your first pet? Was it a bunny, a goldfish, a hamster, a cat, or maybe a dog? This is a tribute to my first pet.

Sunday, March 23

Hamster (short memoir)

I've always loved animals and they've all...most...many...some have loved me. This is a story about the other ones.

Sunday, March 30

April Fool(ishness) collection

a collection of silly writing to make you chuckle.

Sharing my author journey...

Carry Me Home (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

 Mitten happily rests beside his brother in the girl's pocket, but then he falls...  It's cold... It's dark... Who will help Mitten get home?

Nope, not a doll. It's me, under the tree on my second Christmas.

Carry Me Home

Mitten slept beside his brother in the girl's jacket pocket. His brother was squished into a corner. Mitten poked his thumb out of the pocket and felt the breeze as the girl ran. Mitten liked how the wind felt, so he inched even farther out of the pocket and farther and... He fell. Thud! He hit the cold, hard ground. All around him was white. The sky glowed with bright sunshine.

"Help," Mitten called. "Brother, where are you? Brother! Help!"

"O-o-oh," howled the wind. "You are alone. All alone."

"Please, Mr. Wind, please, carry me home."

"O-o-oh", howled the wind, louder. "Alone."

Mitten shivered. "I miss my brother." He thought of his brother safe and warm in the pocket. "Does he miss me? Does he even know I'm gone?" He remembered the fun games they played. He patted the snow, but one mitten can't make a snowball. "If you're happy and you know it, clap your mittens...um...er...mitten," he sang. But all he felt was sad.

Orange light filled the sky as Sun prepared for bed.

"Please don't leave me all alone in the cold, dark night," Mitten begged.

"Day is over. It's time for night," Sun said and went to bed.

Mitten rolled up into a tight ball on the cold, white snow.

"Lullaby and good night," Moon sang.

All night long Mitten shivered. All night long Mitten dreamed of the warm pocket and his dear brother.

Early the next morning, Mitten heard flap, flap, flap. He felt something land on top of him.

"You're the perfect thing to feather my nest," Bird sang.

Bird picked up Mitten and flew into the sky—higher and higher and higher.

"Please, Bird, please carry me home. I miss my brother. I miss the warm pocket."

"You'll be nice and warm in my nest," Bird sang and kept flying. So Mitten wiggled and squirmed, squirmed and wiggled, wiggled and—. He fel-l-l.Thud! He landed on top of Squirrel.

"Just think how many nuts I can hide in you," Squirrel said.

"Please, Squirrel, please carry me home. I miss my brother. I miss the warm pocket."

Squirrel held Mitten in his paws and scampered down a path into the dark forest. He jumped over a log. Mitten wrapped around a branch that stuck out of the log.

"Let go," Squirrel shouted. He pulled and pulled and pulled.

Mitten held on tight.

Woof. Woof. Woof. Dog ran through the forest.

"Dog!" Squirrel stopped pulling and ran away.

"Here, Dog. Come here," Mitten called.

Dog ran to Mitten.

"Hey, I know you," Mitten said. "You're Trixie, and you belong to my little girl."

"Our little girl," Trixie said. "She has been looking all over for you."

"She has?"

"And your brother is so sad. He misses you so much," Trixie said.

"He does?"

"Of course. Where were you?"

"I fell out of the pocket, and Bird picked me up and flew away. I asked Bird to take me home. When Bird didn't listen, I tried to get away, and—and—I did. But I fell on Squirrel. I asked him to help me, but he... but he..." Mitten took a breath. "Please, Trixie, please take me home."

And Trixie carried Mitten all the way home.

Happy Holidays!

Sunday, December 24

Christmas Collection (short stories)

A slight change of plans. I've decided to share my collection of Christmas-themed short stories--including the one I wrote this year.  I hope you enjoy reading them. The best of the season to you. 

Sunday, December 29

Holiday Office Party (short story)

 Holiday parties can be challenging, especially for spouses. What do you say to people you barely know but who may be important to your husband's career?

And my year-end wind-up.

About Mary Poppins...

Carrots (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

Mariam Horse is an avid gardener who shares what she harvests with her neighbours because she knows she always wins when she shares with friends.

photo by ldyck

Carrots

One sky-blue morning, Victoria Pig visited Mariam Horse’s garden. “My, what a fine crop of carrots you have, Mariam.”

“Yes, there’s nothing like carrots fresh out of the garden. And I have far too many.” As quickly as she could, Mariam Horse picked a basketful for Victoria Pig.

That afternoon, Lilja Squirrel visited Mariam Horse’s garden. “You sure do know how to grow carrots.”

“Would you like some?” Without waiting for an answer, Mariam Horse picked a basketful for Lilja Squirrel.

A few minutes later, Wen Rabbit visited Mariam Horse’s garden. “Wow, I sure do love carrots.”

Mariam Horse picked the remaining carrots and handed the basket to Wen Rabbit.

“I couldn’t take your last ones,” Wen Rabbit said.

“Yes, you can and will. I can always grow more,” Mariam Horse said.

Early the next day, Wen Rabbit returned Mariam Horse’s basket. She left it on the porch with a note that read, “Enjoy!” Mariam Horse looked inside and found a dozen carrot muffins.

That afternoon Lilja Squirrel returned Mariam Horse’s basket. She left it on the porch with a note that read, “For you!” Mariam Horse looked inside and found a carrot cake with creamy icing.

A few minutes later, Victoria Pig knocked on Mariam Horse’s door. “I just wanted to return your basket, and as a thank you, I made you some carrot juice.” She handed a jar to Mariam Horse.

“That’s so kind of you,” Mariam Horse said. “Here, let me walk you to the gate.”

On the way to the gate, Mariam Horse led Victoria Pig past the apple tree.

"My, don’t your apples look delicious,” Victoria Pig said.

“Oh, yes, they are, and I have far too many.” Mariam Horse ran to get a ladder.

On this blog in December...

Sunday, December 1

How to be a Published Author

I've been published a few times, and I'm working on being published a few more. Next Sunday, I'll try to share all I know about making that happen. Yes. Everything. (or at least most everything)

Sunday, December 8

Do You Write Every Day? (short story)

Dreams help keep me motivated. This short story was inspired by one.

Sunday, December 15 

Playing the Cello (short story)

 The cello stands in the corner, waiting to sing her song. Who will help her sing it? This short story was inspired by a friend's relationship with her cello.

Sunday, December 22

Carry Me Home (children's story)

Mitten happily rests beside his brother in the girl's pocket, but then he falls...  It's cold... It's dark... Who will help Mitten get home?

Sunday, December 24

Alone for Christmas (short story)

During this time of joy, of merriment... When we gather with friends and family, it's important to remember those who are socially isolated. 

Sunday, December 29

Holiday Office Party (short story)

 Especially for spouses, Christmas parties can be challenging. What do you say to people you barely know but who may be important to your husband's career?

Congratulations to...

Petal's Monster (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

Petal's Monster is about overcoming stress due to childhood anxiety.

photo by ldyck

Petal's Monster

Petal crept into her Mom's bedroom, silently she crawled onto her Mom's bed and--.

Click. Lamplight cut through the dark.

"Not again." Mom signed. "We've been over and over this. You're a big girl. You need to sleep in your own bed."

"No, I can't. It's under my bed," Petal said.

"There's nothing there. Come with me. I'll show you." Mom picked up a flashlight and led Petal back to her room.

Mom shone the flashlight under the bed. The beam of light hit something. It moved.

Petal tugged on her Mom's arm. "The monster! We need to get out of here. Now!"

Mom bent over and scooped something up in her hand. She showed it to Petal. "See. It's just a ball of dust."

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

"I can hear it moving." Petal wrapped her arms around her mom's leg.

Mom shone the flashlight at the window. "It's a tree branch." Mom frowned. "It's late. We both need to get to sleep. Don't wake me again."

Petal crawled into her bed.

"Remember, it's nothing. Just your imagination playing tricks on you." Mom left the door open a crack. 

Petal heard Mom go down the hall and into her bedroom. She heard Mom close her door. Petal was all alone. Bravely, she pulled the covers up to her chin and squeezed her eyes closed. "It's nothing," she said, over and over again.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Petal's eyes popped open. "Mom says you're just a tree branch, but you sound so close. Like you're under my bed."

"I'm going to get you," the monster said.

"But Mom said--."

A fluffy arm reached out from under the bed. It caught hold of Petal's pajama pant leg. It grabbed Petal's ankle. It kept pulling and pulling. "You're coming with me," the monster said, and pulled her off the b--.

Petal coiled her fingers into fists. "No, I'm not."

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not. Stop pulling me."

The monster stopped pulling.

"Let go of me."

The monster let go.

"You're not a monster."

"I'm not?"

"No, you're not. You're nothing. You're not even here."

Fizzle, snap, poof. Nothing was under her bed. The monster was gone.

All Petal saw was her fluffy teddy bear, Sunny. She picked him up and climbed back into bed.

"It's time to go to sleep," Petal told Sunny, "but don't be afraid, I'm right here."

Petal closed her eyes and fell asleep.

with Perky

I Read Canadian Day November 6th

Sharing my Author Journey...

Finding Su-Le (short story) by Leanne Dyck

I grew up on the outskirts of a small community, between two highways. Sometimes people would stop their cars, open the door and toss out...things...like...

Illustration by Debbie Ridpath Ohi

Debbie Ridpath Ohi's YouTube channel

Finding Su-Le

Susan and I took turns. One day we played at her place. The next at my place. That day we were skipping rope with my skipping rope and swinging on my swing.

Crash.

"What was that?" Susan asked.

"A cougar," I guessed.

"A bear," Susan guessed.

"Maybe it's a mon—."

How-r-row.

"It's coming from in there." Susan headed for the old garage.

How-r-row.

"It could be trapped."

"It might be hurt."

The old garage was packed with stuff. So we had to squeeze in. There were old boards with big nails. There was stuff with sharp corners. So we had to be careful.

Meow-r-row.

"There's something over here," Susan said. "It's small, and I think it could be a—"

Meow.

We tried to go over. We tried to go under. We went around.

Meow.

The kitten licked and didn't bite or scratch.

"She's so cute," we agreed.

"I hope my mom lets me keep her," I said.

"I saw her first, Leanne."

"She's in my yard."

Meow.

"Maybe we can share her."

"That's a great idea, and we can call her—"

"Su-Le," we said together.

Meow.

"I think Su-Le is hungry."

"She needs some milk."

We carried Su-Le inside.

I found a bowl, and Susan found the milk.

Mom walked into the kitchen.

"Quick," I said, "We can't let her see—"

Meow.

Mom smiled and then she frowned. "Leanne, where did that cat come from?"

"I found her." I couldn't tell where. I wasn't supposed to go into the garage.

"We found her in the garage." Susan didn't know the rule.

"Please-e-e-e. Can I keep her?"

Mom patted the kitten. "We'll see."

Mom told everyone, "We found a kitten." She asked everyone, "Is it your kitten?" And no one said yes. And so... And so... That's how Su-Le came to live with me.

"But she's my cat too," Susan said.

May on this Blog...

Canadian Children's

Book Week

Sunday, May 1 to Saturday, May 7

Sunday, May 8

Short Story

Mothering by Leanne Dyck

 Dreams about having a newly published book inspired this short story.

Sunday, May 15

Book Review

The Running Trees by Amber McMillan (short story collection)

Published by Goose Lane Editions

In celebration of short story month

International Short Story Month

Sunday, May 22

Book Review

The Spoon Stealer by Lesley Crewe

published by Vagrant Press

(an imprint of Nimbus Publishing)

Sunday, May 29

Short Story

My Song by Leanne Dyck

They say that you shouldn't meet your heroes. This story offers an explanation of why you shouldn't.

Sharing My Author Journey...

One million page views! On April 30th at approximately 11:40 am, my blog received its one