Grandpa's Boot Fort

"Is he here yet?" said Mia, with her nose on the window.

"Not yet," said Mum. "Grandpa's bus comes at three."

Mia held her old red blanket tight. Grandpa was coming to stay for one whole week. She had a plan. She would build him a fort in the hallway, the best fort ever, so he could sit inside and tell her stories.

She dragged out the big cushions. She stacked them up. Wobble, wobble, flop! They fell down.

"Try again," Mia said to herself. She stacked them the other way. Flop! They fell down again.

Mia sat on the floor and frowned. The cushions just would not stay up.

Then she saw Grandpa's big brown boots by the door. He had left them last summer. They were heavy, and they were very tall.

"Boots!" said Mia.

She stood one boot on each side of the hallway. She put the blanket across the top, like a roof. Then she put a boot on each corner to hold it down. The blanket stayed. It did not wobble. It did not flop.

Mia crawled inside. It was dim and warm, like a cave. She put one cushion on the floor, and one beside it for Grandpa.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Grandpa!" Mia shouted. She raced to the door.

Grandpa stood on the step with his bag. He looked at the hallway. He looked at the blanket roof.

"Well, now," he said. "Is that a fort?"

"It is," said Mia. "It's for you. It's held up by your boots."

Grandpa laughed. "My boots have never been so busy."

He got down on his knees and crawled in. His big shoulders bumped the roof, and the blanket swayed. Mia held her breath.

It stayed up.

Grandpa sat on his cushion. Mia sat on hers. Outside, the kettle began to whistle.

"Now," said Grandpa softly, "shall I tell you a story?"

Mia leaned on his warm sleeve, and the fort went quiet around them.