Too Many Mummies

11 pages · 12 min · ages 5+

Far away, in a big, busy city where the sun is warm and the sky is very blue, a little boy named Ned woke up and ran to the window. “Mommy, Mommy, look!” he shouted. There, just past the rooftops, stood the pyramids, golden in the morning sun. Ned was four, and he said “Mommy” about three hundred times a day. But this morning, he was thinking about mummies. “I want to meet a real mummy,” he said. “Not you, Mommy. The bandage kind!” Mom smiled. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, “mummies that walk and talk aren't real.” It was Halloween, and Ned and his big sister Poppy were on vacation in Egypt. They had brought Halloween with them in the suitcase: paper bats, a big bag of candy and Ned's orange pumpkin bucket. So before breakfast, Ned was already a teddy bear, and Poppy was already a bat. And Ned's new blue sneakers blinked every time he jumped.

At the pyramids, the sun was very hot, and Ned's fluffy bear suit was even hotter. Dad wanted a funny photo. “From here, the pyramids look tiny,” he said. “Pick one up with your fingers, Ned!” A girl was watching them and laughing. Her name was Salma. She lived just around the corner and was out walking with her mom. “I see the pyramids every morning when I brush my teeth,” said Salma. “Every morning?” said Poppy. “Wow!” Salma shrugged. “They're just there,” she said. “Like the bus stop.” Salma noticed everything, even the teeny-tiny things that nobody else saw. Just then, Ned spotted a stone as big as a couch. “MOMMY!” he shouted. Mom turned around. And so did somebody else.

Something moved behind the big stone. Slowly, very slowly, a hand wrapped in bandages came around the side. Then a round head with two big eyes. Ned held his breath. It was a real mummy, the bandage kind! She was short and round, with a little tuft on her head like a pompom. She was a mom, too. At home, her own little one always called her “Mummy!” And “Mommy” sounds almost exactly like “Mummy.” So she thought her little one was calling. “Yes, sweetie?” she said. She looked at Ned very closely, from his bear ears down to his blue shoes. “No,” she said. “You're not my little one. Mine has bandages.” Pop! And she was gone. Ned's eyes went very wide. “A real one!” he whispered. Then he took a deep breath. “MOMMY!” Pop! Pop! Pop! Three bandage mummies peeked out from behind three big stones. Each one was a mom, and each one thought her own little one was calling. “Yes, sweetie?” they said. “But mummies that walk and talk aren't real,” said Mom, in a very small voice.

Now Poppy wanted a turn. Poppy was the loudest kid in her whole class. “MOMMY!” she shouted. Out came bandage mummies from everywhere! Tall ones and short ones and round ones, and one who had clearly been taking a nap. “Yes, sweetie?” they all said. And so did Mom, and so did Salma's mom. Then out came a little mummy boy, just as tall as Ned, with a curl of bandage on top of his head. “I'm Bundle,” he said. “Watch this!” And he did a very wobbly cartwheel. Every single mummy clapped. Bundle stomped his foot. “Not all of you!” he said. “I want MY mummy! My own one!” Every mummy pointed at herself. “Me?” A tall mummy with a ribbon of bandage on her head sighed. “I'm Bundle's mom,” she said. “My name is Ribbon. That's the trouble with us mummies. Our little ones all call us Mummy, so at bedtime, we all come running. Bedtime takes hours!”

Ned and Bundle looked at each other. They were exactly the same size, and they both loved cartwheels. In about one minute, they were best friends. “I wish I were a real mummy,” said Ned. “I wish I were a teddy bear,” said Bundle. Ned grinned. “It's Halloween,” he whispered. “Let's swap!” So behind a big stone, where nobody could see, the two little boys swapped. Bundle wriggled into Ned's fluffy bear suit and pulled the hood down low. Then he wrapped Ned up in his spare bandages, around and around, from the top of his curls all the way down to his blinking blue shoes, but not over his face. Now Ned looked just like a little mummy. And Bundle looked just like a little teddy bear. “When your mom calls ‘Ned,’ I'll go to her,” said Bundle. “And when your mom calls ‘Bundle,’ I'll go to her,” said Ned. “Just for a little while. Nobody will ever know!”

When the sun began to go down, Dad spread out the big picnic blanket, and Mom hung paper bats in a palm tree. Salma and her mom came too, with a big bottle of juice. “Ned!” called Mom. “Picnic time!” And from behind the big stones, Ribbon called, “Bundle! Bedtime!” The little teddy bear ran to Mom. The little mummy ran to Ribbon. But the teddy bear was Bundle, and the little mummy was Ned! Mom gave the teddy bear a big hug, with her other hand still in the picnic basket. And Ribbon was so sleepy that her eyes were almost closed. She took the little mummy by the hand and led him away, behind the big stones, to the mummies' home. Ned looked back and giggled. “Just for a little while,” he whispered to himself. “It's only a Halloween trick.”

The mummies' home was a cozy, sandy spot between the big stones, with the stars for a ceiling. It was mummy bedtime, and mummy bedtime takes a very long time. First a story. Then another story. Then a drink of water. Then one more story. And Ribbon was so sleepy that she told every single one with her eyes closed. At last, Ribbon tucked Ned in under a little blanket, snug as a bug, and kissed the top of his head. “Good night, sweetie,” she said. Then she lay down right next to him and fell fast asleep. Ned wanted to go back to the picnic now. “Ribbon,” he said softly, “I'm not Bundle.” But Ribbon was already snoring. It was very dark, and all the big stones looked the same. The wind went “Woooo” over the stones. “Mommy?” he whispered. “Yes, sweetie?” answered twenty mummy moms at once, from all over the dark. But not one of them was his. Then Ned had an idea. “My mom will come looking for me,” he told himself. “I'll show her where I am.” So he stayed right where he was and wiggled his feet, and through the bandages, his shoes blinked blue, blue, blue.

Meanwhile, at the picnic, the little teddy bear, who was really Bundle, found Ned's pumpkin bucket full of Halloween candy. He kept his hood down low and his face in the bucket. He ate one piece. Then another one. Then eleven more. By now the stars were out. The little teddy bear sat down by the pumpkin light and went very, very quiet. “Mummy?” he whispered. “Yes, sweetie?” said Mom, pouring the juice. But in the pumpkin light, Salma saw the teddy bear's feet. They weren't Ned's blue sneakers. They were wrapped in bandages. “That's not Ned,” said Salma. “That's Bundle!” Mom lifted the bear hood. A little bandage face looked up at her. “I want my mummy,” said Bundle. “Then where is Ned?” said Mom. Bundle pointed at the big, dark stones. “In my bed,” he said, in a very small voice.

Mom turned on the flashlight. “I know the way,” said Bundle, and he took her other hand. Dad and Salma's mom stayed by the pumpkin light, in case Ned found his own way back. So off they went, between the big stones, in the dark. The wind went “Woooo.” Long shadows wiggled on the sand. Poppy held Salma's hand very tight. In the mummies' home, rows of little mummies lay snoring, all tucked in. Which one was Ned? Salma looked very carefully. Then she pointed. At the end of a row, something blinked blue, blue, blue. “NED!” shouted Poppy, as loud as she could. A little mummy sat straight up. “MOMMY!” he shouted. All the mummy moms woke up. “Yes, sweetie?” they all said, very sleepily. But only one mommy came running. His.

Mom hugged Ned so tight that his shoes blinked. And Bundle ran to Ribbon, and she scooped him up, bear ears and all. “I tucked in the wrong little one!” said Ribbon, and she laughed. Bundle gave Ned his bear suit back. “Next time we swap,” said Bundle, “our moms can watch.” “And never at bedtime,” said Ned.

Back at the hotel, Mom unwrapped Ned, around and around, until only one little bandage was left on his arm. He wanted to keep that one. “Mommy?” said Ned, very sleepily. “Yes, sweetie?” “Mummies are real.” Mom looked at the little bandage for a long, long time. “Well,” she said, and she winked, “maybe just a little.”