A (0:08)

Hello, friends, and welcome to sleept Stories. Tracy loves summer and being outside. She goes inside to talk to her mom, who and ask her a few questions about some very important things. Bare Feet Tracy bounded into the laundry room, leaving dusty footprints across the clean floor as her mother folded what looked like the entire contents of her dresser drawers. Her mother always did laundry when she had something on her mind. It was her thinking time, and Tracy had learned it was also the perfect time to get her full attention. Mommy. Tracy plopped down cross legged on the floor. You could almost see a puff of dirt rise as she hit the floor. Yes, dear. Her mother didn't look up from folding one of Tracy's many grass stained T shirts. Why can't summer last forever? Because the seasons change. But why must the seasons change? Tracy picked at a mosquito bite on her ankle. Don't the birds love summer? The trees always look so happy and the flowers always open up and greet me when I walk by. Her mother paused, holding up a tiny sock that somehow had a hole in the toe already. That's the natural order of things, sweetie. There's an ebb and flow to everything. I'm sure you'll learn all about it when you go back to school. Tracy's stomach dropped. School already? Why do I need to go back to school? To learn, of course. But I can learn at home. Tracy scrambled to her feet, leaving another dusty print. I learned tons this summer. I learned that I can run faster than Roger, even barefoot on gravel. And that ice cream gets super sticky when it melts on your legs. Oh, and that snakes aren't scary at all once you really look at them. Yes, her mother said with a slight smile. You also learned not to bring snakes into the house. Tracy grinned sheepishly. Will I have to wear shoes to school? Yes, you will have to wear shoes to school. But you can pick which pair. But why? Rules. I don't like rules. Tracy flopped dramatically against the dryer. If I made the rules, I would never, ever wear sneakers or shoes or whatever ever again. My feet love the feel of grass and the dirt and even the hot pavement in the afternoon. What about snow? Her mother raised an eyebrow. Would your feet like the feel of icy cold snow? Tracy considered this seriously. They might. Or I could make an exception for winter. I guess. Maybe instead of school, I could stay home with you. I could learn stuff at home with you and then play with my friends later. Oh, I don't think I could teach you much, her mother said, shaking out a pair of shorts that's best left to the professionals. You could try. Mommy, don't you always tell me to try? Tracy moved closer, her voice getting that tone that usually convinced her mom. And besides, I learned so much from you already. Her mother looked at her with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised in that way that meant she was both amused and skeptical. Like the way you talk to yourself in the grocery store when you can't find something. You'll be like, where are the crackers? They were just here yesterday. And then you find them in a totally different aisle and act all surprised. Her mother laughed. I do not talk to myself that much. And how you always smell the milk before you pour it, even when it's brand new from the store. And you taught me that it's okay to eat cereal for dinner sometimes when you're too tired to cook real food. Those are practical life skills, her mother said, trying to sound serious but failing to hide her smile. Oh, and the way you practice what you're going to say to the cashier when you have a coupon, like you're rehearsing for a play. I have this coupon and I think it should work, but if it doesn't, that's totally fine. And then you never actually use the coupon anyway because you get embarrassed. Her mother shook her head, smiling wider now. I think maybe I've taught you to be a little too observant. And you always turn the radio down when you're looking for a parking spot. Like the music is somehow making it harder to see empty spaces. Tracy paused, then added more quietly, but honestly, I do that now, too, when I'm looking for my backpack. See? Important skills, her mother said, setting down the laundry basket and really looking at Tracy for the first time. You'll be just fine at school. Tracy kicked at the floor with her bare toe. I guess, Roger said he's going, and I guess I can, too. He might need my support anyway. That's what friends do, her mother agreed, reaching out to smooth down Tracy's wild hair. And who knows, maybe you'll learn some things there that even I can't teach you. Tracy looked down at her dusty feet, wiggling her toes against the cold linoleum. Do you think they'll let me take my sneakers off during recess? I think, her mother said with a laugh, that you're going to find ways to be yourself, no matter what the rules say. And that is the end of our story. Good night, sleep tight.