That morning, Pigúiça woke up with an idea too big to fit inside her head. “Today I'm going to help with everything!” she announced. “Everything!”
Fofuxo, who had just opened one eye, opened the other. “Everything?” “Everything!” And off she went, her curly tail swinging, to find something to do.
First, the garden flowers. But Pigúiça grabbed the watering can so fast that all the water came out at once. Splash! The daisy got a bath from top to bottom. “Brrr,” she said, shaking her petals. “Thank you, but a little at a time, okay?”
Then, the dry leaves in the yard. Pigúiça took the broom and swept and swept and swept. She gathered a giant pile. Then a little breeze came along and, whoosh, the leaves flew back everywhere. A cat on the wall and two squirrels on a branch watched it all, and a rabbit covered his mouth so as not to laugh.
Pigúiça stood still, her nose drooping, with a leaf hanging from her ear. But there was still the lunch table. She carried the plates, one, two, three... and the fourth slipped from her paw. It didn't break, because it was wooden, but it went spinning all over the kitchen, clack-clack-clack, until it hit the foot of the cupboard.
Then she sat on the doorstep. “Helping is hard,” she grumbled. “I only make a mess.”
Fofuxo sat beside her, big and warm. “Do you know what the best help of the day was?” “What?” “Look over there.” In the garden, the daisy was giggling, all wet and happy.
“And there's another secret,” said Fofuxo. “Helping doesn't mean doing everything by yourself. It means doing your own little part, together with the others. Everyone takes what they can handle.”
Pigúiça thought about it. Then she got up and went to get the broom again. This time, Fofuxo held the basket, and she swept the leaves slowly into it. One leaf, then a small pile, then another. And this time, the leaves stayed put.
For lunch, she carried one plate at a time, and Fofuxo carried the others. The table was ready in a flash, with a flower in the middle. It was the daisy, who had asked to come and watch up close.
When the sun began to go down, the house was neat and fresh-smelling. Not perfect. There was still one stubborn leaf on the rug and a puddle near the garden. But it was just how a house looks when everyone has helped.
At night, Pigúiça felt her paws grow heavy, her tummy full of soup, and a good kind of tiredness, the kind that comes from doing something useful. “I was the helper of the day,” she murmured. “You were,” said Fofuxo.
She smiled, tucked her nose under her tail, and closed her eyes. The plates slept in the cupboard. The broom slept in the corner. And Pigúiça slept too, snug beside them all.
