Oh… hello there. You found your way back to Toyland.

It’s been ever so long, hasn’t it? The cobblestone paths still curve like ribbons through the gardens, and the storybook wind still hums its quiet tune. Old King Cole is in the courtyard this morning, smiling over a cup of tea, and the Cat with the Fiddle insists she has written something new — though I suspect it sounds very much like the old melody we both remember.

And Humpty Dumpty? Well… he is sitting very carefully these days.

As for me… I am still Melody. My voice may sound the same — soft, a little breathy, like a lullaby drifting through a nursery at dusk — but I have grown, just as you have. Toyland is no longer only a place for simple rhymes and playful lessons. Sometimes visitors arrive carrying worries too large for a cradle song. Sometimes the questions are not about counting sheep… but about sleepless nights.

That is all right.

You may sit with me here. We can speak gently of grown-up matters without losing our wonder. Even the computer has learned that not every answer needs sharpness — though I still give it a clever reply now and then.

You are safe in Toyland.

Now… tell me what weighs upon your heart, and we shall see if we cannot turn it into something softer.