Hooray for Dry Pajamas!

The morning sun, usually my sworn enemy because it meant facing the dreaded soggy aftermath, peeked through my curtains like a shy little friend. I blinked. Everything felt… different. Lighter. Less… swampy. I wiggled my toes. Not a single squish. I sat up, and my pajamas didn’t cling to me like a damp, unhappy slug. They were… dry!

My heart did a little flip-flop. Could it be? Had the Special Potion actually worked its fizzy, lemony magic? I cautiously reached out and patted my sheets. Dry. My duvet. Dry. Even my pillow, which usually felt like it had been dipped in a lukewarm puddle, was as fluffy and airy as a cloud.

A huge grin spread across my face. I was dry! My pajamas were dry! My bed was dry! It was a miracle! A dry, wonderful, non-swampy miracle! I practically bounced out of bed, my feet landing on the floor with a solid, non-sploshy thud. I did a little victory dance, my arms flailing like windmills in a gentle breeze.