The Kissing Hand

The Kissing Hand

"I don't want to go to school," he told his mother.

"I want to stay home with you.

I want to play with my friends.

And play with my toys. And read my books.

And swing on my swing.

Please may I stay home with you?"

Mrs. Raccoon took Chester by the hand and nuzzled him on the ear.

"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do," she told him gently.

"Even if they seem strange and scary at first.

But you will love school once you start."

"You'll make new friends. And play with new toys."

"Read new books. And swing on new swings. Besides," she added.

"I know a wonderful secret that will make your nights

that will make your nights at school seem as warm and cozy as your days at home."

Chester wiped away his tears and looked interested.

"A secret? What kind of secret?"

"A very old secret," said Mrs. Raccoon.

"I learned it from my mother, and she learned it from hers.

It's called the Kissing Hand."

"The Kissing Hand?" asked Chester.

"What's that?"

"I'll show you."

Mrs. Raccoon took Chester's left hand and spread open his tiny fingers into a fan.

Leaning forward, she kissed Chester right in the middle of his palm.

Chester felt his mothers kiss rush from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart.

Even his silky, black mask tingled with a special warmth.

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