Deep in the heart of the Enchanted Forest, where the air smelled like warm cinnamon and freshly baked cookies, stood a boy named Ethan. His shoes were always untied, his pockets stuffed with odd treasures—a shiny pebble here, a bent paperclip there—and his laugh sounded like a chorus of giggling squirrels. Tee-hee-hee!

One morning, as the golden sun tickled the treetops, Ethan set off to visit his favorite spot: the Whispering Willow. Its leaves rustled secrets in the wind, swish-swish-swish, and its bark felt rough and bumpy, like the skin of a friendly dragon. But today, something was different. A tiny, grumpy-looking owl named Oliver perched on a low branch, his feathers puffed up like a dandelion gone to seed.

"Hoo are you?" Oliver hooted, his voice sharp as a pine needle. "You’re late. And your shoelaces are a disaster."

Ethan’s fingers fumbled with his laces, his cheeks warming like toast in a toaster. Oh no. Oliver was right. His shoes looked like two tangled snakes having a nap. He opened his mouth to explain—maybe the squirrels had played a trick?—but Oliver cut him off.

"And your pockets are bulging. Are you hiding a small elephant in there?" Oliver’s beak clicked in disapproval. Click-click.

Ethan’s stomach twisted like a pretzel. He’d never heard such sharp words before! His shoulders slumped, and his favorite pebble suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. Maybe I’m not good at anything, he thought. The forest around him seemed to dim, as if someone had turned down the sun’s brightness.

Just then, a soft plop sounded near his feet. A plump, round hedgehog named Hazel had tumbled from a bush, her spines covered in sticky sap. "Oof!" she groaned, wobbling like a top about to fall. "Ethan, help! I’m stuck!"

Ethan forgot his tangled laces and bulging pockets in a flash. He knelt down, his hands gentle as butterfly wings, and peeled the sap from Hazel’s spines. It felt gooey and warm, like melted caramel. Squelch-squelch. Hazel sighed in relief, her tiny nose twitching. "You’re the best, Ethan!"

Oliver flapped his wings, his feathers settling back into place. "Hoo… I suppose that was… helpful," he muttered. "But next time, tie your shoes."

Ethan grinned, his earlier wobbly feelings melting away like ice cream in the sun. He tied his laces—loop, swoop, pull!—and patted his pockets. "You know what, Oliver? You’re right about my shoes. And my pockets are a bit silly. But I’m still me. And that’s okay!"

The Whispering Willow’s leaves shivered with approval, swish-swish-swish, and the forest seemed to glow again. Hazel curled up in Ethan’s lap, her spines tickling his palm like tiny pins. Oliver even cracked a smile—well, as much of a smile as an owl can manage. "Hoo-kay," he said. "Maybe you’re not completely hopeless."

As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of raspberry and cream, Ethan skipped home. His shoes were tied, his pockets were still full of treasures, and his heart felt light as a feather. The Enchanted Forest hummed around him, its scents of cinnamon and adventure wrapping him in a cozy hug. Feedback isn’t so scary after all, he thought. It’s just someone else’s way of helping you grow.

And with that, Ethan did a little dance, his untied shoelaces flapping like happy flags. Flip-flop, wiggle-wag! The forest laughed with him, and even Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle. Hoo-hoo-hoo!