Puddle Lamp

Ivy found a lamp floating in the puddle by her back door. It was small and round, and it bobbed like a duck.

"A lamp that swims!" said Ivy.

It was grey outside, and the rain went tap, tap, tap. Ivy wanted to play a game, but there was nobody to play with. Her brother was asleep. Her mum was busy. So Ivy picked up the lamp and carried it inside.

It was dark in the hallway. The lamp gave a tiny glow, as small as a candle.

Ivy giggled. The lamp glowed a little brighter.

"Oh!" said Ivy. "You like laughing."

She wanted the whole hallway to shine. So she tried to laugh, but it came out thin and fake. "Ha. Ha. Ha." The lamp stayed dim.

Ivy frowned. She tried again. She pulled a funny face in the mirror. Nothing happened. Her face did not feel funny at all.

"This is hard," she sighed. She sat down on the mat and her wet sock squelched.

Squelch! It was a very rude noise.

Ivy snorted. The lamp flickered. She wriggled her toes, and her sock went squelch, squelch, squelch. Now she was laughing for real, and so hard that her tummy hurt.

The lamp grew bright and yellow. It lit the coats on the hooks. It lit her brother's tiny boots. It lit the whole hallway like a little sun.

Her brother woke up and toddled out in his pyjamas. He pointed at Ivy's wet sock.

"Squelch," he said.

"Squelch!" said Ivy.

They sat together on the mat in the warm light. Outside, the rain went tap, tap, tap, and inside, two sets of toes went squelch, squelch, squelch.