The Little Car That Took the Scenic Route

The bath is ready. Kofi and the yellow car are not.

“Bath’s ready!” called Grandad from the top of the stairs. Kofi and the yellow car were at the bottom. The stairs went straight up. “We’re taking the scenic route,” said Kofi. Brrrrrm.

The scenic route went under the kitchen table, through a forest of chair legs, and past a lost pea. “Kofi?” called Grandad. “Nearly!”

Grandad came down to find them. “The bath’s getting cold.” But the yellow car was driving up Sofa Mountain. At the top, it stopped to look at the view. “Lovely,” said Kofi.

“Straight up the stairs now, please,” said Grandad. The yellow car went round the plant pot instead. Once. Twice. “It’s a roundabout,” said Kofi. “You have to go round.” Grandad began to count. “One … two …”

The yellow car went under the rug. Grandad waited for it to come out. “How long is the scenic route?”

“Very long,” said Kofi. “There’s a bridge next.” Grandad looked at the car. Then he looked at the stairs. Then, slowly, with a creak, he got down on the floor.

Grandad made a bridge. The yellow car drove under it. Brrrrrm. Then Grandad made a bus. “This bus only goes one way,” said Grandad. “Up.” Kofi climbed aboard.

The bus took the scenic route up the stairs. One stair. A rest. One stair. A rest. “Brrrrrm,” said the bus. It was a slow bus.

At the top, the yellow car drove all the way along the edge of the bath … and fell in. Plop. “Car wash!” said Kofi.

Grandad sat down against the bath and closed his eyes. “Kofi,” he said, “is there a short way to bed?” Kofi thought about it. “No. But there’s a scenic route.”