Imagination According to Humphrey by Betty G. Birney

Italy
    â€” 
Help Kelsey go to the ballet
    â€” 
Help Daniel meet D. D. Denby
    Reading the list, I realized that what I REALLY-REALLY-REALLY like to do is to help my human friends. There was no way one little hamster could accomplish such big goals in real life, but Mrs. Brisbane said it should be fiction. Maybe if I used my imagination, I could think of something.
    â€œWatch out,” I squeaked to Og. “There might be another brainstorm!”
    If I could fly, how could I help my friends ? A flying squirrel wouldn’t work for me. I’d need to fly like a hamster.
    But one hamster couldn’t accomplish everything I wanted to do.
    I’d need my own great big airplane. Then I could fly to the pyramids and Phoebe’s house and I could fly Mrs. Brisbane to Tokyo.
    That was it! Flying Hamster Airlines! I could fly all my friends to places they wanted to go. And since it was an imaginary airline, I could fly to imaginary places, too!
    â€œOg, if I could fly, I’d start my own airline,” I squeaked.
    He splashed around in the water, which usually means he’s happy.
    But I don’t know if frogs even know what an airline
is.
    â€œThat means you fly people all over the world in a big shiny airplane,” I explained. “Hey, if you could fly, you could start a Flying Frog Airlines!”
    â€œBOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” Og leaped into the water and began to splash.
    I guess he knew what an airline was after all.
    I grabbed my pencil and began to write.
    I’m proud to be the first hamster ever to become an airplane pilot. Now that I’ve started my own company, Flying Hamster Airlines, I can fly my human friends anywhere they want to go.
    I kept on writing, without even pausing.
    First, I’ll drop Holly off at Phoebe’s house, and spend some time catching up with my old friend. Next, I’ll take Joey to the town where his dad lives. Then I’ll zip over to Europe so Simon can eat Italian food and I’ll take Kelsey to see a ballet in Paris . . .
    I wrote and wrote and wrote.
    I didn’t even notice how tired my paw was getting.
    And when I was finished and I read what I’d written, I felt . . . well, proud!
    MY WRITER’S RAMBLINGS I tried and tried again
and then I kept on trying.
And now I am so happy:
my imagination’s flying!

Rosie’s Casa

    M y friends’ imaginations were flying as well—all except for Joey’s. He still spent more time staring at his notebook than writing in it.
    Believe me, I knew how he felt.
    Mrs. Brisbane was encouraging, but somehow, she wasn’t getting through to him.
    One day, the Most Important Person at Longfellow School—our principal, Mr. Morales—came in to see how we were doing. He was wearing a tie with little pencils all over it.
    â€œI hear you have a room full of authors here,” he said. “Mrs. Brisbane said you’re doing very well.”
    He wandered up and down the aisles, looking at each notebook and making comments.
    When he read Small-Paul’s page about time-traveling through space, he said, “Fantastic idea!”
    He high-fived Sophie when he read about the parrots.
    He had something nice to say about everyone.
    Then he came to Joey. “So, what are you writing about ? ” the principal asked.
    He couldn’t really tell, because Joey had covered his page with his arm.
    â€œI’m off to a slow start,” Joey said.
    Mr. Morales persuaded him to move his arm. He studied Joey’s page. “Keep going. I love your idea of flying to Africa.”
    Joey muttered, “Thanks.” I don’t think he believed Mr. Morales, but our principal would never lie!
    â€œWhat’s this ? ” Mr. Morales asked, nudging Joey’s arm. “On this page ? ”
    Joey wrinkled his nose. “Oh, just doodles. I’m always doodling.”
    â€œBut they’re very good,” Mr. Morales said.