Once there was a young wombat named Benson, who lived in a calm, peaceful wombat hole with his mother and his two aunts, Lillibet and Moss.
Aunt Moss had a headache. “My head is really hurting,” she said. “I think I’ll go and lie down.”
Benson’s mother made her a nice cup of cardamom and willowbark tea, and Benson took it into her room. Aunt Moss was lying down but she didn’t feel any better. She said, “This pillow is so uncomfortable.”
Benson said, “My pillow is nice and soft. Do you want to try it instead?”
He ran to his room and got his pillow. Aunt Moss tried it, but it wasn’t any better. “Your pillow is lovely and soft, Benson, but it isn’t helping,” she said. “My head still hurts,”
Benson’s mother said, “What if we make you a lovely soft pillow out of a soft pile of leaves?”
“That sounds lovely,” Aunt Moss said.
Benson ran outside and filled up a bag with leaves that were lying on the grass. He took it into Aunt Moss’s room. “Here, try this,” he said.
Aunt Moss lay down on the leaf pillow, but she got up again straight away. “No, this pillow isn’t any better,” she said. “It still hurts my head.”
Benson’s mother said, “I know, let’s get some possum fur and make a pillow out of that. Possum fur is the softest thing in the world.”
Benson ran to his friends, Nils and Nella’s house, and he asked their mum if he could have some possum fur.
“Of course you can,” she said. “Every time Nella brushes her tail, handfuls of fur come out. I’m always picking it up.” She gave Benson a big pile of fur. It was as soft as a cloud. He carried it home and made a beautiful pillow with it, to put under Aunt Moss’s head.
She lay down on the soft possum fur pillow, but she sat up again straight away. “Ow! Ow!” she said. “That hurts!”
Benson said, “Aunt Moss, could I have a look at the back of your head?”
He looked carefully at the back of Aunt Moss’s head, then he reached up and pulled something out of her hair.
“Look,” he said. “This was caught in the hair at the back of your neck.” He held up a hair-clip.
Aunt Moss said, “So that’s where it was! I’ve been looking for that clip for days!” She felt the back of her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all any more!”
Benson’s mother said, “That clip must have been poking into your head all this time and giving you a headache.”
“It wasn’t the pillows that hurt,” Benson said, “it was the clip all the time.”
Aunt Moss said, “Let me see.” She lay down on the possum fur pillow. “It’s beautiful and soft,” she said. “But I think I like my old pillow best.” Benson gave her back her own pillow and she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Benson’s mother took the possum fur away to make into yarn to knit a beautiful soft scarf. Benson took the bag of leaves outside. He filled up another bag with leaves, and then he and Roly played pillow fights until the bags split open and the leaves rained down like a snowstorm.
A Wombat Named Benson 