A story about nervousness
Jitters and the Tummy Full of Butterflies
Jitters has practised the song a hundred times, and now it is time to sing it in front of everybody. A story about nerves before something big.
2 minutes to read aloud · 😰 Anxious
Watch it read aloud · 3 min
Jitters had practised the song one hundred and four times.
Jitters knew every word, and the tricky bit in the middle, and exactly where to take a breath. Jitters had sung it to the mirror, to a plant, and twice to a very patient snail.
And now Jitters was standing behind the curtain, and there was an audience out there, and the butterflies had arrived.
Not nice butterflies. The whooshy sort. Jitters' tummy was doing flips, and Jitters' paws had gone cold, and Jitters' heart was going like a drum in a washing machine.
"I can't," Jitters whispered. "I've forgotten it. I've forgotten all of it. I'm going to be sick."
Bravo poked his head round the curtain.
"Tummy butterflies?"
Jitters nodded miserably.
"Right," said Bravo. "Paw on the tummy. Go on."
Jitters put a paw flat on her middle.
"Now five slow breaths. Count them. I'll count with you."
One. The butterflies flapped.
Two. Still flapping.
Three. Jitters noticed her paws were not quite so cold.
Four. The drum in the washing machine slowed down to just a drum.
Five.
The butterflies were still there. Jitters had rather hoped they would leave.
"They don't go," said Bravo, reading her face. "Do you know what they are? They're the bit of you that cares. You practised a hundred and four times because you care. The butterflies are just that, showing up."
"So I have to sing with them in there?"
"Everybody does," said Bravo. "Even me. Especially me."
The curtain went back.
Jitters walked out with a tummy full of butterflies, and opened her mouth, and the first note came out a bit wobbly. The second one did not.
