Natalie and the Cloudy Picnic

It was picnic day on the Big Lawn, and Drama Llama had planned everything: the polka-dot blanket, the strawberry sandwiches, a dramatic reading of the menu.

Negative Natalie looked at the sky. “Those clouds look like rain.”

“They look like cotton candy,” said Drama.

“The sandwiches will get soggy,” said Natalie. “The blanket will get muddy. Someone will sit on an ant.”

By the third worry, Generous Piggy had stopped humming. By the fifth, Drama stamped her hoof. “Natalie, you ruin EVERYTHING! That’s why everyone calls you Negative!”

The lawn went very quiet. Natalie’s ears drooped. She tucked her little umbrella under her arm and sat at the far edge of the blanket, saying nothing at all.

Then the first fat raindrop landed… plip… right on the strawberry sandwiches.

Drama shrieked. Piggy grabbed the food. And Natalie, without a word, popped open her umbrella over the sandwiches, then pulled a folded tarp out of her bag and handed one end to Piggy. “Tie it to the tree,” she said. “Quickly.”

In a minute they had a dry little tent, and the rain sounded like applause on the roof.

Drama looked at Natalie for a long time. “I called you a name because I was disappointed,” she said. “Not because it’s true. I’m sorry.”

Natalie fiddled with her umbrella. “I’m sorry too. I was so scared the day would go wrong that I made it go wrong before it even started.”

Piggy passed out the slightly soggy sandwiches. They were, everyone agreed, the best ones yet.