Hey guys, I'm trying to get kids interested in football and the dangers that cold air can be to warm footballs, so I wrote this little children's book. I hope you enjoy!!
The Littlest Football The Could by Daria Guava-Fresca
Once upon a time there was a land called Asturfia. This land was filled with all sorts of creatures, from the humble red striped whiteballs and the black spotted balls, to the neon green furballs, and most importantly, the leather eggs. These various species lived together in harmony for many years.
One day, Wilson was playing with his leather egg friends. “Look at me!” shouted Wilson as he jumped off his perch and rolled around on the ground. “Try and get me!” he screamed to his friends. Wilson’s friends ran after him, trying to tag him, shrill squeaks echoing through Asturfia. But as they grew closer, Wilson moved suddenly, changing direction and bouncing off. “You can’t catch me!” Wilson slowed down, laughing the entire time as he righted himself. The other leather eggs came to join him, and they started their game of topple off the perch, wildly running around as the wind blew and swirled around them.
The wind kept blowing, making Wilson and his friends swirl and giggle with joy. Wanting to continue spinning and spiraling out of control, Wilson spied the small mountain nearby. “Let’s go up there, guys!”
“But Wilson, it’s too tall,” said another leather egg.
“It’s not too high, we’ll be okay,” Wilson said, rolling toward the mountain.
He began the slow and difficult job of climbing the mountain. It wasn’t easy, being rounded on multiple surfaces. Just as Wilson gained ground heading up the mountain, he would roll back a bit too. A few of the leather eggs started the journey with him, although with far less enthusiasm. As they continued up the mountain, it started to grow colder, and wetter.
“Wilson, we should turn around now. We’re high enough.”
“No!” he shouted, fighting against the wind to continue going uphill, “I just want to get a little further.”
The leather eggs began to fall back now. A few of them rolling down the mountain excitedly, a few more rolling timidly, trying their hardest to not bounce out of control. Unfortunately for the leather eggs, it wasn’t easy for them to maintain control once they began cascading down the mountain.
Wilson, not afraid of the sounds of his friends, continued up the mountain. He was determined to make it to the top of the mountain before climbing down. The air was starting to get thinner, and Wilson felt the damp air even more than before. His leather was beginning to grow more and more damp. He knew that his grandmother would be upset, but Wilson trudged forward nevertheless. The air grew more and more cold, yet Wilson continued.
Weirdly, it felt as though it was getting easier to climb the mountain. Even when it grew steeper in places, Wilson felt like he was slipping less and less. It was easier for him to maintain his grip and he made even faster progress toward the peak.
With a final heave, Wilson reached the summit. He stared at the lovely view around him and let out a whoop of joy. “I’m king of the mountain!” he shouted. The air was incredibly cold at this point, and Wilson hadn’t realized how much it had impacted him until he was ready to return home.
Wilson’s once firm egg form had now dented and had become soft as he climbed higher and higher on the mountain. Instead of being able to roll excitedly down the mountain, it took all of his energy to flop forward. When he would start to venture down the mountain, he didn’t have as much air inside of him to cushion the blow. Feeling hurt and defeated, Wilson began to give up hope of ever making it back home to the bottom of the mountain.
“Help!” he shouted. “Please, someone, help!”
But no one came.
Wilson continued, struggling down the mountain, screaming out every now and then. As he began to give up hope, he decided to find a decently warm spot and rest.
“Hello?”
Wilson thought he was hallucinating. He barely had the energy to speak, but he tried to respond.
“Hello?” the voice said again, louder. “Wilson, are you there?”
Recognizing the voice as his best friend Baden, Wilson tried to shout again. “I’m here,” he said quietly. His voice hurt and there wasn’t that much air left in him to be released.
“Wilson!” Baden shouted, finally finding his friend. Horror struck Baden’s face. He couldn’t believe the shape that Wilson was in. Nearly completely deflated by the cold, it would be impossible for Wilson to make it down the mountain alone.
Baden moved himself behind Wilson, “It’s okay, buddy, I’ve got you. I’ll get you back home.” Pushing Wilson slowly in front of himself, Baden carefully made their way down the mountain. Barely filled with air, Wilson made it back home safely. Realizing that warm leather eggs don’t do well in the cold air, becoming too soft and less bouncy, Wilson vowed to never to return to the mountain again.
The Littlest Football The Could by Daria Guava-Fresca
Once upon a time there was a land called Asturfia. This land was filled with all sorts of creatures, from the humble red striped whiteballs and the black spotted balls, to the neon green furballs, and most importantly, the leather eggs. These various species lived together in harmony for many years.
One day, Wilson was playing with his leather egg friends. “Look at me!” shouted Wilson as he jumped off his perch and rolled around on the ground. “Try and get me!” he screamed to his friends. Wilson’s friends ran after him, trying to tag him, shrill squeaks echoing through Asturfia. But as they grew closer, Wilson moved suddenly, changing direction and bouncing off. “You can’t catch me!” Wilson slowed down, laughing the entire time as he righted himself. The other leather eggs came to join him, and they started their game of topple off the perch, wildly running around as the wind blew and swirled around them.
The wind kept blowing, making Wilson and his friends swirl and giggle with joy. Wanting to continue spinning and spiraling out of control, Wilson spied the small mountain nearby. “Let’s go up there, guys!”
“But Wilson, it’s too tall,” said another leather egg.
“It’s not too high, we’ll be okay,” Wilson said, rolling toward the mountain.
He began the slow and difficult job of climbing the mountain. It wasn’t easy, being rounded on multiple surfaces. Just as Wilson gained ground heading up the mountain, he would roll back a bit too. A few of the leather eggs started the journey with him, although with far less enthusiasm. As they continued up the mountain, it started to grow colder, and wetter.
“Wilson, we should turn around now. We’re high enough.”
“No!” he shouted, fighting against the wind to continue going uphill, “I just want to get a little further.”
The leather eggs began to fall back now. A few of them rolling down the mountain excitedly, a few more rolling timidly, trying their hardest to not bounce out of control. Unfortunately for the leather eggs, it wasn’t easy for them to maintain control once they began cascading down the mountain.
Wilson, not afraid of the sounds of his friends, continued up the mountain. He was determined to make it to the top of the mountain before climbing down. The air was starting to get thinner, and Wilson felt the damp air even more than before. His leather was beginning to grow more and more damp. He knew that his grandmother would be upset, but Wilson trudged forward nevertheless. The air grew more and more cold, yet Wilson continued.
Weirdly, it felt as though it was getting easier to climb the mountain. Even when it grew steeper in places, Wilson felt like he was slipping less and less. It was easier for him to maintain his grip and he made even faster progress toward the peak.
With a final heave, Wilson reached the summit. He stared at the lovely view around him and let out a whoop of joy. “I’m king of the mountain!” he shouted. The air was incredibly cold at this point, and Wilson hadn’t realized how much it had impacted him until he was ready to return home.
Wilson’s once firm egg form had now dented and had become soft as he climbed higher and higher on the mountain. Instead of being able to roll excitedly down the mountain, it took all of his energy to flop forward. When he would start to venture down the mountain, he didn’t have as much air inside of him to cushion the blow. Feeling hurt and defeated, Wilson began to give up hope of ever making it back home to the bottom of the mountain.
“Help!” he shouted. “Please, someone, help!”
But no one came.
Wilson continued, struggling down the mountain, screaming out every now and then. As he began to give up hope, he decided to find a decently warm spot and rest.
“Hello?”
Wilson thought he was hallucinating. He barely had the energy to speak, but he tried to respond.
“Hello?” the voice said again, louder. “Wilson, are you there?”
Recognizing the voice as his best friend Baden, Wilson tried to shout again. “I’m here,” he said quietly. His voice hurt and there wasn’t that much air left in him to be released.
“Wilson!” Baden shouted, finally finding his friend. Horror struck Baden’s face. He couldn’t believe the shape that Wilson was in. Nearly completely deflated by the cold, it would be impossible for Wilson to make it down the mountain alone.
Baden moved himself behind Wilson, “It’s okay, buddy, I’ve got you. I’ll get you back home.” Pushing Wilson slowly in front of himself, Baden carefully made their way down the mountain. Barely filled with air, Wilson made it back home safely. Realizing that warm leather eggs don’t do well in the cold air, becoming too soft and less bouncy, Wilson vowed to never to return to the mountain again.
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