In the fluffy, floaty Land of Suspended Time, where clouds tasted like cotton candy and rivers giggled with bubbles, lived a little boy named Asher. Asher had hair like a haystack after a windy day and shoes that always untied themselves—flip-flap, flip-flap—no matter how many times he knotted them.

One morning, the air smelled like warm pancakes and maple syrup, but Asher’s tummy did a funny little flip. Today was the day he had to visit Doctor Tickles, the time doctor who fixed wobbly clocks and wibbly-wobbly knees. The thought of it made his toes curl like overcooked spaghetti. Squeak! went his socks as he shuffled toward the door.

"But what if the doctor’s stethoscope is cold like a snowball?" Asher whispered to his reflection in a puddle. The puddle splashed back, plop!, as if laughing. "Or what if the waiting room smells like old bandages?" His nose wrinkled just thinking about it. The doorknob felt slippery, like a bar of soap in the bath, and his fingers kept sliding off—squish, squish.

Outside, the path to Doctor Tickles’ office was made of trampoline clouds. Asher bounced once, twice—boing! boing!—and landed with a thump right in front of a door shaped like a giant alarm clock. The doorbell rang with a sound like a hundred giggling teapots: tee-hee-hee! The air smelled of peppermint and something faintly like… tickle feathers?

The door creaked open, and there stood Doctor Tickles, tall as a lamppost, with a mustache that wiggled like two caterpillars doing a dance. "Ah! Asher!" the doctor boomed, his voice echoing like a drum in a cave. "I’ve been expecting you!" He held out a hand covered in squishy, jelly-like gloves. Squelch! went the handshake, and Asher’s fingers sank into the goo. Giggle! He couldn’t help it—the gloves felt like tickling his palm with a hundred tiny feathers.

"Now, let’s see what’s making your time wobble," said Doctor Tickles, pulling out a stethoscope that looked like a snake made of licorice. Asher’s eyes widened. The doctor leaned in, and—brrr!—the stethoscope was indeed cold, but it also made a sound like a purring kitten. Purrrrr… Asher’s shoulders relaxed a smidge.

Then came the tricky part: the Tickle-O-Meter. Doctor Tickles pulled out a gadget that looked like a lollipop with feathers on top. "This will measure your bravery," he said. Asher gulped. The feathers brushed his chin—tickle-tickle!—and his whole face scrunched up. Snort! A giggle escaped before he could stop it. The Tickle-O-Meter beeped wildly: beep-beep-beepity-beep!

"Hmm," said Doctor Tickles, scratching his chin. "Your bravery is hiding behind a wall of giggles! Let’s try something else." He pulled out a jar of Brave Bubbles. "Blow one of these, and it’ll show us where your courage is!" Asher puckered his lips and blew—whoosh!—and a bubble the size of his head floated into the air. It shimmered like a rainbow, then popped with a pop! right in front of his nose. Inside the bubble, Asher saw himself… laughing. Not scared at all!

"See?" said Doctor Tickles, his mustache wiggling proudly. "You’re braver than you think!" Asher’s chest puffed up like a balloon. The doctor handed him a Courage Lollipop—cherry-flavored, his favorite. Yum! It tasted like sunshine and adventures.

As Asher bounced home on the trampoline clouds, the wind carried the sound of his laughter—ha-ha-ha!—all the way back to his house. His shoes still flip-flapped, but now his heart felt light as a feather. And the next time he had to visit the doctor? Well, he’d bring his own Tickle-O-Meter… just in case.

The end.