In this episode Bella reads The Good Egg by Jory John and Pete Oswald
Hello and welcome to Bella's Read-A-Long. Today, Bella will be reading The Good Egg by Jory John and Piedaugh's Wald, the creators of the bad seed. Here's Bella. Hello guys. Today I'll be reading The Good Egg. Oh, hello. I was just rescuing this cat. You know why? Because I'm a good egg. A very good egg. It's true. I do all kinds of good things like I'll care your groceries, I'll water your plants, I'll change your tires. I'll paint your house. If you need any help whatsoever, I'm your egg. I've always been a good egg. To bend this way from the start, even in my earliest days, back out the store. There were a dozen of us living together under one recycled roof. Those mag and peg and gray, clag, shell, shelly, sheldon, shell bee, egg, burnt, frank, and other frank. The other 11 eggs weren't on their best behavior. They weren't exactly good. They ignored their bedtime. They only ate sugary cereal. They threw tantrum, cry for no reason. Broke stuff, broke their stuff. On purpose. Geez. Meanwhile, I tried to take charge. I tried to fix their bad behavior. I tried to keep the peace because I was a good egg. A very good egg. Nobody seemed to care, though. Every night I was exhausted. My head felt scrambled. Then one fateful morning, I noticed some cracks in my shell. Yikes. They were... Edveryware. My doctor said I was from all the pressure I was putting on myself. The pressure of making sure everybody was as good as me. I was cracking up. Literally. Something had to change. I've had enough. I told mag, peg, gray, clag, shell, shell, shell, sheldon, shell bee, egg, burnt, frank, and other frank that I was leaving. It can't be the only good egg in a bad carton, I said. Blah, blah, blah. They're a blood. I left that night. I wandered from town to town. The hours became days, the days became weeks. I grew a beard. I lost track of time. I was alone. Out there on the road under the stars, I really tried to focus on myself and what I needed. And he cut off all of his beard. That's it. I took walks. I read books. I floated in the river. I wrote my journal. I found simple moments to be quiet. I breathed out. Even started painting. For once, I found time for me. Guess what? Little by little, the cracks in my shell started to heal. My head had no longer felt scribbled. I started to feel like myself again. So I made a big decision. I'm returning to my old carton to my friends, besides, kind of lonely out here. This time I know what I need to do. I'll try not to worry so much. I'll be good to my fellow eggs, while always still being good to myself. Self love. Here we go. He said."Everybody missed me. I missed them too." Hello, Meg, howdy-pegg, hey Greg. Greetings, Clegg. What's up, Shell? Ola Shelley, hey Osheldon. Hi, Shell, big, good day. I bear with you happening, Frank. How do you do other, Frank, that we hate? Sure, every once in a while, everybody's still a bit bad. Put some knot like before. Here's what I realize. The other eggs aren't perfect, and I don't have to be either. I'm okay with that. And I look tapy well. I used to, death as a word, slide down, slide down, slide down, just tears. Yep, the old garden is back together again. We're a solid dozen. They're true underwear on my spot. It's a good to be home. The end. Thank you for listening to Bellas Read Along. Bye. Have a good night, day, such afternoon.