Milo the Mole and the Littlest Digger

Milo the mole loved digging tunnels all by himself.

But lately, someone was always right behind him.

His little sister, Pip.

“Wait for me, Milo!” she squeaked. “I want to dig too!”

Pip copied everything Milo did.

When he dug left, she dug left.

When he wiggled his nose, she wiggled hers.

“Can’t I dig ALONE?” Milo grumbled. “You’re too little.”

Pip’s ears drooped. She sat down in the dirt, quiet.

Milo dug ahead, fast and free. It felt good.

But the tunnel felt… empty.

No little squeaks. No copying nose.

Milo stopped. He looked back at the dark, quiet tunnel.

And he felt a small ache in his heart.

So he dug his way back to Pip.

“I’m sorry,” Milo said softly. “I didn’t mean it.”

Pip sniffled. “I just want to be like you.”

Milo smiled. “Then let me show you the mole way.”

He taught her to dig in soft, steady scoops.

Scoop, scoop, scoop.

Pip’s little paws worked hard beside his.

Together, they dug the longest, curviest tunnel in the whole meadow.

It had twists! And turns! And a cozy round room at the end.

“We made this,” said Pip, beaming.

“WE did,” said Milo. “You’re a real digger now.”

That night, the two moles curled up in their new room.

Pip yawned. “Tomorrow, can we dig together again?”

Milo tucked her in with a paw.

“Every day, little sister,” he whispered. “Every day.”