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Sunny sits at her small kitchen table in warm morning light, gazing intently at a paper cup drawing lying before her. She rests one hand beside the picture, eyes wide and hopeful as sunbeams stripe the tabletop.
Sunny finds a little cup picture on her table. “This is my invisible cup,” she says. “It holds my happy.” Today she feels a tiny empty. “I can fill it,” Sunny whispers.
Early morning light drifts through Sunny’s bedroom as she sits cross-legged on the floor, one hand gently resting on her belly. Her shoulders droop and her face looks drowsy yet calm while she breathes in and out slowly.
Morning comes, and Sunny feels droopy. “Hello, feelings,” she says kindly. “You can stay, and I can breathe.” She puts a hand on her belly. In, out, slow and soft.
Afternoon sunlight pours into the living room where Sunny stands, pretending to hold an invisible flower to her nose and a candle before her lips. She smiles gently, mid breath of her playful “smell the flower, blow the candle” rhyme.
“Smell the flower. Blow the candle,” Sunny sings. She pretends to hold a flower, then a candle. In, out, three times. “My cup likes that,” she smiles.
In the bright kitchen at noon, Sunny tilts a clear glass to her lips while cool water glitters. Droplets cling to the glass as she lowers it, shoulders loosening and a satisfied smile glowing in the sunny window light.
“Glug, glug,” Sunny sips cool water. Drops tinkle the cup. “Thank you, water,” she says. Her shoulders relax. Her invisible cup feels a little fuller.
Afternoon sun fills the living room as Sunny stretches on tiptoes like a tall tree, arms reaching toward the ceiling. Her toes wiggle and her face beams with giggling delight, dress twirling mid-spin.
“Stretch tall like a tree,” Sunny says. She reaches up, wiggles toes, and twirls. “Shake, wiggle, freeze!” she laughs. Her giggles bubble up. Her cup sparkles inside.
Soft morning light reflects in the mirror as Sunny stands close, wrapping her arms around her chest in a squeeze-hug. She meets her reflection with a brave, glowing grin, whispering the words “I am Sunny.”
“I am kind. I am brave. I am Sunny,” she says to the mirror. She gives herself a squeeze-hug. Her cup glows warm and bright.
Late afternoon light softens Sunny’s bedroom nook where she curls inside a blanket-and-pillow nest on the floor. Eyes half-closed and mouth relaxed, she rests one hand on the blanket, listening to gentle silence.
“Time for quiet,” Sunny whispers. She builds a cozy nest with blanket and pillow. She listens to calm silence. Her eyes feel soft. Her cup settles, steady and strong.
Sunlit art table strewn with crayons and paper; Sunny kneels, coloring a huge cup outlined in bold purple. Stars, hearts, and swirling suns blossom under her focused smile while rainbow shavings scatter across the wooden surface.
“Colors!” Sunny cheers. She draws a giant cup and bright stars. She adds hearts, suns, and swirls. “These are my good things,” she says. Her cup swishes happy colors.
Warm afternoon light fills the kitchen as Sunny takes a crunchy bite from a red apple at the table. Sweet juice sparkles on her chin while her eyes close in contentment, free hand resting on her humming tummy.
“Crunch,” goes the apple. Sunny tastes sweet juice and smiles. “Thank you, body,” she says. Her tummy sings a tiny song. Her cup feels plump and peaceful.
Pale daylight filters through the bedroom window as Sunny stands with a palm over her heart, gazing at a single grey cloud drifting outside. She hums a quiet tune, her face calm and accepting.
A grumpy cloud passes through Sunny. “Hello again,” she says softly. She pats her heart and hums a small song. “I can wait kindly.” Her cup stays steady.
Midday sunlight streams onto the windowsill where Sunny gently waters her little plant, bright droplets sparkling on the leaves. Nearby, crayons and a saved sticker sheet rest on the table, and she smiles, pleased to share later.
Sunny waters her little plant and sets out crayons for later. “I can share when I’m full,” she says. She saves a sticker for tomorrow. Her cup smiles.
Night settles in Sunny’s bedroom; moonlight slips through curtains onto her snug form beneath a blanket. Hands resting over her heart, she whispers thanks with a peaceful closed-eye smile while shadows settle softly around her pillow.
Night falls gentle. Sunny thinks of three good things and whispers, “Thank you, day.” She snuggles in, hands on heart. “I filled my cup.” Tomorrow, she will fill it again.