Digby of the Dinosaurs Chapter One
One very warm afternoon in one very ordinary April, Digby Darby wandered away to a new life.
Now on any other ordinary day, Digby's afternoon would be ruined by the much dreaded, always-enforced naptime at Aunt Millie's Home for Little Waifs. Digby had lived at the Home since he was a baby. He had never liked naptime, and now he was way too old for naps. Even though he was much older than the other children at the Home, Aunt Millie insisted that he have a rest time every afternoon while the other children slept. Aunt Millie was very big on naps, and took one herself every afternoon.
The nurses and caregivers at the Home for Little Waifs dreaded trying to coax Digby to have his afternoon rest. Digby's blue eyes filled with angry tears right on cue every afternoon. His lower lip jutted out like a shelf. He stood stiff and unmoving, his feet spread wide apart, arms crossed tightly on his chest, glaring bitterly at his naptime jailers.
"No, no, no!" he always screamed. "I don't wanna rest! No, no, nooooo!"
He waved his pudgy arms around and tried to push away the Nice Ladies who herded him to his bed. As his legs touched the edge of the mattress, he slumped in defeat and tumbled into the sheets. But he never slept during naptime. Instead, he lay on his back and kicked and thrashed and muttered thoughts of escape to himself.
But something was different today. It was such a beautiful warm day, Aunt Millie decided that the children should nap out on the back lawn under the giant elm tree. Aunt Millie was very much in favor of fresh air for children. She was not so big on it for herself, and preferred to sleep inside on her own soft mattress, away from annoying bugs, and children for that matter. When naptime rolled around on this day, Digby didn't protest. He allowed Aunt Millie to guide him to a blanket next to the little children already dozing on the lawn. The Nice Lady in charge of him that day was amazed.
Well, she thought. Well, well, well! At last Digby has learned to be like other children! Maybe for once we will have a peaceful naptime.
And peaceful it was. Peaceful, and warm, and drowsy .... the Nice Lady sat on her own soft blanket under the giant tree where she could keep a good eye on the children. The soothing April afternoon sounds of birds chirping, young leaves gently rustling, and bees buzzing made everyone even drowsier. She felt a yawn coming on, and let it come. A long, contented sigh escaped her lips. Her eyelids were getting heavy.
"Maybe I will just shut my eyes for a minute," the Nice Lady said to herself. "Just for a min- zzzzzzzz." And she was fast asleep.
Digby was not asleep. He was lying quietly on his blanket, but he wasn't feeling peaceful or drowsy. He was full of energy, and full of plans. Digby rolled over onto his side and raised his head. In the distance, far past the end of the wide lawn, he saw the Misty Mountains. He sat up and saw rows of quietly napping children on blankets. He saw the Nice Lady propped up against the sheltering tree, her eyes closed. He heard the soft sounds of toddlers breathing in sleep, and the gentle snoring coming from the Nice Lady's blanket. He smelled a faint trace of honeysuckle on the afternoon breeze.
Digby didn't waste a moment. He was off and running, heading toward the wild woods at the foot of the mountains, leaving his blanket, the sleeping babies and the snoring Nice Lady behind.
How wonderful the green grass of the lawn felt under his bare feet! Soft and springy, on top of slightly squishy earth. All of his pent up energy drove his arms to pump and his legs to carry him farther and farther away from the Home for Little Waifs. He had never been this far from the Home before. Digby was a speedy traveler at any time, but he was moving so fast now that he was practically flying.
Then the springy green lawn ended and the wild lands began. Digby wandered on and on, and after quite some time found himself in front of a thick growth of bushes and trees, all in a tangle. He plopped down on the ground to catch his breath. He looked up at the towering mountain behind the thick bushes. He moved forward onto his hands and knees and peered through the tangled branches.
There was a sort of little path through the tangle, very narrow and faint. Digby looked back over his shoulder. The Home for Little Waifs was far away and no longer visible. Digby moved forward and wiggled through the dense branches and onto the little path in front of him. He crawled forward, but much more slowly now. There were so many branches, and they kept getting in his way. He tried to brush them away with his hand as he kept going forward.
After a long while, Digby slowed down and stopped where he was. He was not on a path any longer, but stuck in an endless maze of twisted up branches that kept smacking him in the face as he tried to crawl on. Digby tried to turn around but the branches only let him go in certain directions. He kept moving, but it seemed he was going in circles. The bushes were slowly pushing him uphill. Digby came to a stop. Fatigue washed over his body. His arms and legs felt heavy and hard to move, as if he were trying to walk under water.
He thought of his soft blanket on the lawn of the Home for Little Waifs. He thought of the Nice Lady and the snack she must surely be bringing out about now. Digby took a big breath and threw his head back to let out a wail of misery when his eye fell on something new. It looked kind of round and dark. Digby worked his way through the thick brush until he found himself right in front of a dark little tunnel. His spine tingling, he stared into its black interior.
Now on any other ordinary day, Digby's afternoon would be ruined by the much dreaded, always-enforced naptime at Aunt Millie's Home for Little Waifs. Digby had lived at the Home since he was a baby. He had never liked naptime, and now he was way too old for naps. Even though he was much older than the other children at the Home, Aunt Millie insisted that he have a rest time every afternoon while the other children slept. Aunt Millie was very big on naps, and took one herself every afternoon.
The nurses and caregivers at the Home for Little Waifs dreaded trying to coax Digby to have his afternoon rest. Digby's blue eyes filled with angry tears right on cue every afternoon. His lower lip jutted out like a shelf. He stood stiff and unmoving, his feet spread wide apart, arms crossed tightly on his chest, glaring bitterly at his naptime jailers.
"No, no, no!" he always screamed. "I don't wanna rest! No, no, nooooo!"
He waved his pudgy arms around and tried to push away the Nice Ladies who herded him to his bed. As his legs touched the edge of the mattress, he slumped in defeat and tumbled into the sheets. But he never slept during naptime. Instead, he lay on his back and kicked and thrashed and muttered thoughts of escape to himself.
But something was different today. It was such a beautiful warm day, Aunt Millie decided that the children should nap out on the back lawn under the giant elm tree. Aunt Millie was very much in favor of fresh air for children. She was not so big on it for herself, and preferred to sleep inside on her own soft mattress, away from annoying bugs, and children for that matter. When naptime rolled around on this day, Digby didn't protest. He allowed Aunt Millie to guide him to a blanket next to the little children already dozing on the lawn. The Nice Lady in charge of him that day was amazed.
Well, she thought. Well, well, well! At last Digby has learned to be like other children! Maybe for once we will have a peaceful naptime.
And peaceful it was. Peaceful, and warm, and drowsy .... the Nice Lady sat on her own soft blanket under the giant tree where she could keep a good eye on the children. The soothing April afternoon sounds of birds chirping, young leaves gently rustling, and bees buzzing made everyone even drowsier. She felt a yawn coming on, and let it come. A long, contented sigh escaped her lips. Her eyelids were getting heavy.
"Maybe I will just shut my eyes for a minute," the Nice Lady said to herself. "Just for a min- zzzzzzzz." And she was fast asleep.
Digby was not asleep. He was lying quietly on his blanket, but he wasn't feeling peaceful or drowsy. He was full of energy, and full of plans. Digby rolled over onto his side and raised his head. In the distance, far past the end of the wide lawn, he saw the Misty Mountains. He sat up and saw rows of quietly napping children on blankets. He saw the Nice Lady propped up against the sheltering tree, her eyes closed. He heard the soft sounds of toddlers breathing in sleep, and the gentle snoring coming from the Nice Lady's blanket. He smelled a faint trace of honeysuckle on the afternoon breeze.
Digby didn't waste a moment. He was off and running, heading toward the wild woods at the foot of the mountains, leaving his blanket, the sleeping babies and the snoring Nice Lady behind.
How wonderful the green grass of the lawn felt under his bare feet! Soft and springy, on top of slightly squishy earth. All of his pent up energy drove his arms to pump and his legs to carry him farther and farther away from the Home for Little Waifs. He had never been this far from the Home before. Digby was a speedy traveler at any time, but he was moving so fast now that he was practically flying.
Then the springy green lawn ended and the wild lands began. Digby wandered on and on, and after quite some time found himself in front of a thick growth of bushes and trees, all in a tangle. He plopped down on the ground to catch his breath. He looked up at the towering mountain behind the thick bushes. He moved forward onto his hands and knees and peered through the tangled branches.
There was a sort of little path through the tangle, very narrow and faint. Digby looked back over his shoulder. The Home for Little Waifs was far away and no longer visible. Digby moved forward and wiggled through the dense branches and onto the little path in front of him. He crawled forward, but much more slowly now. There were so many branches, and they kept getting in his way. He tried to brush them away with his hand as he kept going forward.
After a long while, Digby slowed down and stopped where he was. He was not on a path any longer, but stuck in an endless maze of twisted up branches that kept smacking him in the face as he tried to crawl on. Digby tried to turn around but the branches only let him go in certain directions. He kept moving, but it seemed he was going in circles. The bushes were slowly pushing him uphill. Digby came to a stop. Fatigue washed over his body. His arms and legs felt heavy and hard to move, as if he were trying to walk under water.
He thought of his soft blanket on the lawn of the Home for Little Waifs. He thought of the Nice Lady and the snack she must surely be bringing out about now. Digby took a big breath and threw his head back to let out a wail of misery when his eye fell on something new. It looked kind of round and dark. Digby worked his way through the thick brush until he found himself right in front of a dark little tunnel. His spine tingling, he stared into its black interior.