Barnaby Button was a button. A bright, shiny, cherry-red button, usually sewn onto a very serious, very beige coat. But Barnaby wasn’t your average button. Oh no. Barnaby dreamt of adventure!
One Tuesday (a particularly boring beige coat Tuesday), Barnaby wiggled himself loose. “Time for fun!” he declared, tumbling onto the sidewalk.
He landed with a bounce beside three children, Lily, Tom, and Maya, who were sketching fantastical creatures with sidewalk chalk. Lily, with her messy pigtails, spotted him first.
“Look!” she cried, “A talking button!”
Barnaby puffed out his non-existent chest. “I am Barnaby Button, explorer of the Unbuttoned Universe! I require your assistance for a quest of utmost… button-y importance!”
The children giggled. This was way more exciting than drawing a purple-striped hippogriff. They decided to play along. Barnaby declared their mission: to find the Lost Land of Lint, a mythical place said to be filled with the softest, most luxurious lint imaginable. It was, according to Barnaby, the perfect resting place for a weary adventurer.
Their journey, fueled by the imagination of the children, took them through a jungle of overgrown dandelions (Barnaby narrowly escaped being eaten by a ladybug tiger!), across a roaring river of spilled juice (Barnaby used a fallen leaf as a raft!), and over the treacherous Mountain of Dirty Socks (Barnaby almost disappeared into a particularly hairy sock-monster!).
The whole adventure was terribly educational. The children learned about ladybug diets, leaf buoyancy, and the sheer terrifying variety of sock-monsters.
Finally, they arrived! The Lost Land of Lint wasn’t a grand, sparkling paradise. It was… the bottom of Lily’s mom’s handbag.
“This…this is it?” Barnaby stuttered, looking around at the dusty crumbs and forgotten tissues.
Lily, Tom, and Maya looked at each other, a little disappointed.
Then, Maya scooped up a handful of fluff – not the softest, most luxurious lint, but definitely lint. “Look, Barnaby,” she said, “It might not be what you expected, but it’s still kind of cozy, right?”
Barnaby looked at the children’s smiling faces, at the slightly dusty, slightly crumpled lint. He realised something. The adventure hadn’t been about where he ended up, it was about who he ended up with.
He snuggled into the lint. “You know what,” he said, “you’re right. The best adventures are the ones you share with good friends.”
Lily carefully sewed Barnaby onto her backpack. Now, Barnaby goes on even more adventures, real ones this time, with his new friends. He learned that sometimes, the greatest treasure isn’t a fancy destination, but the joy of friendship and the unexpected beauty of the ordinary, and sharing your fun with others. And that, he decided, was a button-y great lesson.