Aha! he thought after a moment. That was the new fire truck that he had gotten from his Aunt Marilyn two months ago. He had forgotten all about it! He picked it up to give it a closer inspection.

Hey, what’s that? Stuck to the side of the fire truck was a sunny yellow sticky note with pretty, swirly handwriting. It read:

That’s really weird, he thought, putting the fire truck back on the table he still didn’t recognize. He hopped off his bed, careful as always to land on the only visible patch of carpet between his pile of comics and pile of dinosaurs. I wonder who could have?

“Hey! Where did all my comics go? And all my dinosaurs?” he cried, his sudden volume startling himself. His eyes darted around the room, a tremor of panic creeping into his lip. Suddenly, he spotted a neat blue bin sitting in his bookshelf with a picture of a neat brown Stegosaurus on it. Hey, that wasn’t there before. Maybe?

He raced over to the shelf and cautiously peered in. Phew! There were his dinosaurs. And there was another yellow sticky note!

He looked up, half expecting to see his older sister standing behind him laughing. Instead, he noticed a short bookshelf where his clothes dresser had been before. It was filled with the same neat blue bins that his dinosaurs were in. He ran back across the room. Seriously, what’s going on?

He didn’t even have to look in the bins this time. Stuck to the top of the shelf, between his alarm clock and his lamp, was another note:

That same swirly handwriting was on the front of the bins, too! The top shelf had three smaller bins that said “Socks,” “Undies” and “PJs.” The bottom shelf had two bigger bins and said “Tees” and “Pants.” He peeked in the first one and grinned. Usually his shirts poured out of his dresser or sat in a pile on the floor. But now, instead
of a jumble of colors, all of his T-shirts were rolled up and stuck in the bin like crayons ? including his very favorite one with the Stegosaurus on it!

Cool, he thought, pulling it out. He hadn’t been able to find it since summer when he had ransacked his room looking for that camp field-trip form ? Oh no, my form! Suddenly, all thoughts of Stegosaurus shirts, mystery notes and cool blue boxes dropped out of his mind. Today is the dinosaur museum field trip!

He plunked down on the floor rather forlornly. He had been waiting for this field trip for weeks. His teacher even said they could bring their own dinosaurs to share! He had spent all day yesterday looking for his field-trip permission form in every corner of his room, rummaging through the piles of clothes, half-done craft projects and toys. Now he looked around his room for the first time that morning.

The whole room was spotless. Not a piece of clothing littered the floor. Not even his shoes. Not even his soccer cleats! There wasn’t a single piece of paper anywhere. His backpack was nowhere to be seen. The new table and bookshelf gleamed, their blue bins proudly showing off their pretty labels. Whatever was going on, one thing was certain ? there wasn’t anywhere else to look for that form! Oh man, he thought. Now I’m not going to get to see the museum! Or show anyone my Stegosaurus!

Even the mountain of laundry that usually crowded the corner by his closet had vanished. In its place was a tall metal frame attached to two bright blue bags with swirly writing on them. One said “Hots” in white letters. The other one said “Colds” in rainbow letters ? and it had a bright yellow note sticking to it! Another one? He hopped up to read it:

Hmm, he thought, looking down at his white pajama top. I guess it would go in the ?hots? one? But it’s not dirty, so where would ? he suddenly remembered the other bins with swirly writing on them. And his Stegosaurus shirt! He flew back across the room, then dropped his pajama top in the bin that said “PJs” and pulled on socks and underwear from the other bins on the top shelf. He grabbed his Stegosaurus shirt from the floor and, following a hunch, grabbed his favorite jeans from the pants bin. He pulled them both on, tugging at them as he ran into the living room.

” Mom?” he called. “Hey, Mom, I found my favorite Stego?”

He stopped short. There were yellow notes in here too! All over! Seriously, he thought, what is going on? He rushed over to the closest note, which was stuck to the bottom shelf of his dad’s big bookcase. It read:

Milton looked at the bookshelf. Sure enough, all of his books were neatly lined up on the bottom shelf, plus his favorite magazine, Kidsguide, and his entire collection of comic books lined up neatly in cool plastic containers! Wow, I didn’t know I had that many comics, he thought, as he ran to read the next note. This one was near the front door:

The note was stuck to the windowsill, which had a group of small baskets lined up under it. The two bigger brown ones held his mom and dad’s shoes. A little red one held his sister’s and the very smallest blue basket held all three pairs of Milton’s own sneakers, including the ones that had been at the very furthest spot under his bed since school started. Wow, I can’t believe they found those. Whoever they are, they must be smart, he thought admiringly. I wonder where they put my cleats.

He looked around the room again. The next note he saw was on the wall above a bright red bin on the other side of the front door. As he walked over, he saw his sister’s backpack poking out of it. Next to it, he could see another blue bin with a blue ? hey, there’s my backpack! He quickly read the note:

Cool! he thought. He was always so excited on the afternoons that they visited his uncle, he usually ended up forgetting all the toys he wanted to show him. If I put my dinos here in the morning maybe I won’t forget to take them next time!

He thought about showing Uncle Jake his new Stegosaurus for a minute, then turned his attention back to his backpack. It looked significantly less full than the day before. He unzipped it and peered inside. Instead of the crumpled wads of loose paper and the bulky three-ring binder that had been there yesterday, there were three blue folders and another yellow note:

He pulled out the folders. They had dinosaur stickers on them! They also had that same swirly handwriting across the top. The first one said “Work To Turn In.” The next one said “Work To Take Home.” Hey, he thought, something dawning on him, work to take home ? that’s homework! I get it! He flipped over the third folder.

“Notes and Forms,” he read out loud. Why did that sound familiar? “Notes and for ? oh no, my form!”

He had forgotten all about his permission slip again! Maybe ? his eyes grew big as he yanked open the folder. It was empty. Oh man! He looked around the room. He didn’t see any more notes. He didn’t see anywhere else his form could be either.

Suddenly, he leapt up and shoved the folders back into his bag. I know! he thought, dropping his backpack into his bin. Maybe it fell out of my backpack in the car!

He sped toward the garage, flung open the door and leapt into the backseat of the car. He gasped. It was empty! Completely empty! Nothing that had been there yesterday was there. No wrappers. No juice boxes. Not even a single old French fry. And no form, either. It was just like his room! There was even another yellow note:

Take all your trash? Into the house? That did not seem right. His mother always told him to take trash out of the house. Then he spotted a new, bright silver trash can by the garage door. Maybe they mean just take it out of the car, he thought, an idea dawning on him slowly. Hey, maybe they thought my form was trash! He slid out of the car and ran over to the can, eagerly expecting to see his form laying inside. He wrinkled his nose. It was empty. Then he caught site of another yellow note:

He looked at the open bins under the note. He recognized his sister’s sequined dance uniform in the first bin and his hockey gloves in the second. He found his soccer cleats in the third one, but he barely noticed. The form wasn’t in the garage. It wasn’t in the house. It wasn’t anywhere!

He turned around and headed back toward the kitchen. I’m never going to find it, he thought, stifling a sniffle, and giving a half-hearted kick to a cardboard box as he walked past it. I’m never going to the museum. Then he stopped. A little yellow note fluttered off the box onto to the floor:

He looked at the cardboard box. Above the little dent he had made with his kick, it said in pretty, swirly letters “Give
Away.” It was sitting right next to another box just like it, except it said “Maybe Give Away.” I know what ?give away? means, Milton thought as he looked inside. I wonder what ?maybe give away? means. Then he did a double take. Inside the box was his old fire truck!

” Someone stole my fire truck!” he yelled, his eyebrows scrunching down his face in a tight scowl as he reached in and grabbed it. “They?”

He stopped abruptly and looked at the note again. He was feeling blue, just like the note said. He sure didn’t feel lucky, though. Then he thought about the brand new fire truck sitting on his nightstand and the very first note he had read that morning.

? No need for two when one will do,? he repeated softly to himself. He looked down at the old fire truck.

Maybe some other little boy doesn’t even have one fire truck, he thought. He stood perfectly still for a minute, looking from his old fire truck to the boxes and back to the fire truck again. Then, very slowly, he stepped up to the box that said “Give Away” and, very carefully, laid the fire truck down in the empty box. He smiled. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could out of the garage.

BAM! He ran headfirst into his mom!

” Well, good morning to you too, Milton!” his mom said, laughing. “What are you doing out there so early?”

He followed her into the living room, and took a deep breath to tell her about everything?the fire trucks, the Stegosaurus shirt, the cardboard boxes, the notes with the swirly handwriting everywhere ? hey!

Milton stopped in his tracks. There was no note on the bookshelf. He ran over to the door. The new blue bin was still there, but there was no note with swirly writing. He yanked his backpack out of the bin and frantically peered inside.

” What are you looking for, hon?” his mom asked.

Milton spun around and stared at her, his eyes huge. Had he imagined the whole thing? His mother spoke first.

“Oh, right!” she said, giving him a warm smile and walking back into
the kitchen. “You need your field trip form.”

My ? Milton stood stock still for a moment before rushing after her. She was standing at the fridge, flipping pages in a metal basket attached to it. That wasn’t there before, he thought to himself. But before he could say anything, she pulled out a sheet of paper.

“Here it is, honey,” she said, handing it to him. “In the paperwork basket, right where it belongs! Now be sure to put it in your folder right away. You don’t want to lose it!”

Milton sat down at the table, stunned. My form! he thought, the morning’s adventure immediately dropping out of his mind.

“I’m going to go wake up your sister,” his mom said over her shoulder as she walked out the kitchen. “Since you’re dressed and ready, why don’t you get started on breakfast? Oh, you’re going to have so much fun at the museum today! And in your favorite shirt, how perfect!”

Suddenly, Milton was very hungry. He excitedly poured himself an extra big bowl of cereal. He almost couldn’t believe it! He was going to the museum after all! It said it right there, at the top of the form: “Milton Messy may travel with his class to the Dinosaur Museum.”

He finished his cereal staring happily at the form, daydreaming about all the questions he was going to ask. Suddenly he noticed the empty bowl in his hands. Oh yeah, he thought. If something is dirty, it needs to be washed. He put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then carefully took his form into the living room.

He pulled the “Notes and Forms” folder out of his backpack and started to gingerly slide the form into it, when suddenly, out of the very corner of his eye, he spotted something on the other side of the form. He yanked it back out.

There, at the very bottom, above the line marked “parent signature,” it said in small, neat, pretty, swirly letters:

Hey, he thought, isn?t that?

“Milton!” his mom called from the back of the house, interrupting his train of thought.”We?re leaving in ten minutes!?

Ten minutes! Milton pushed the form back into the folder and ran excitedly out of the room. I better go get my Stegosaurus!

? ? ?