In the light of the moon, two little bumps lay under their blankets.
One Sunday morning, the warm sun came up and—pop!—out from the blankets came two tiny and very hungry children.
They started to ask for some food.
Their mother fed them each a big bowl of yogurt, applesauce and granola, but they were still hungry.
Their mother fed them peanut butter toast, but they were still hungry.
Their mother gave them orange juice cut with water, but they were still hungry.
Their mother stopped at Sara Jane's bakery for doughnuts after story hour at the library, but they were still hungry.
Their mother fed them turkey sandwiches, cottage cheese, broccoli, pear slices and milk for lunch, but they were still hungry.
Their mother fed them goldfish crackers and string cheese for a snack, but they were still hungry.
Soon it was dinner time. The children ate chicken vegetable soup with dumplings (and then had seconds), apple crisp and ice cream, glasses of milk and a drink of water before bedtime.
That night, surprisingly, they did not have stomachaches.
The next morning was breakfast time again. The children ate Clifford Crunch.
Now, believe it or not, they were still hungry—but they weren't such little children any more. They were eating round the clock and constantly telling their mommy they were hungry. Then they tried to put on their clothes, push their feet into their shoes and ... discovered although they had not turned into beautiful butterflies, they had suddenly grown out of everything they owned. (And one of them even skipped a whole shoes size while his mother wasn't paying attention.)
The End.
