The Outing Fairy and Pockets Full of Odds and Ends
Once there were two children, Eliška and Matěj, who loved outings more than anything.
They loved trains, castles, the zoo, forest paths, the swimming pool, and even ordinary walks into town.
They just had one peculiar habit.
The moment they spotted a stall or a little shop, it started:
“Mum, I want that!”
“Me too!”
“Pleeease!”
“I really need it!”
Once it was a stuffed dragon. Next a glow-in-the-dark ball. Then a plastic sword, a bracelet, a charm, a tiny doll, a toy car, and a surprise box.
And every time the children promised:
“I’ll play with it every day!”
“I’ll look after it!”
“This is my absolute favourite thing in the whole world!”
At home, though, it went a little differently.
The stuffed dragon ended up under the bed after two days.
The glowing ball rolled behind the wardrobe.
The plastic sword cracked.
The bracelet went missing.
And after a week, Eliška had almost forgotten the tiny doll.
One day the family went on an outing into a great big forest.
In the middle of the forest stood a little wooden stall.
And it had absolutely everything.
Coloured pebbles.
Stuffed animals.
Squeaky birds.
Magic wands.
Wooden swords.
Even tiny chests of glittering treasure.
Eliška and Matěj stopped.
Their eyes lit up.
“Mum!”
Mum didn’t even have time to turn around.
“I want that fox!”
“I want the sword!”
“And that pebble too!”
“And I want the little chest!”
Suddenly a soft jingling came from behind the stall.
Ting… ting…
A tiny fairy appeared.
She had a backpack on her back and little pockets sewn onto her dress.
“I’m the Outing Fairy,” she said.
“And I heard someone here really needs something.”
“Me!” Matěj shouted.
“Me too!” said Eliška.
The fairy nodded.
“Wonderful. You can take it all.”
The children opened their mouths in surprise.
“Really?”
“Really.”
The fairy waved her hand.
And all the things the children had wished for appeared in their backpacks.
Stuffed toys.
Swords.
Pebbles.
Bracelets.
Toys.
Boxes.
More toys.
And still more.
The backpacks were suddenly enormous.
“Right then, we can carry on with the outing,” the fairy smiled.
The children set off.
After ten steps, Matěj was puffing.
“This backpack is heavy.”
After ten more, Eliška was puffing too.
“My shoulders hurt.”
When the others ran to the stream, the children lagged behind.
When the others found a frog, the children didn’t see it.
When a deer ran past, Matěj was rearranging toys in his backpack.
When they found a beautiful picnic spot, Eliška was hunting for a lost glittery pebble.
“This isn’t a very good outing,” she sighed.
The Outing Fairy sat down beside them.
“What did you actually want to do today?”
The children thought.
“See a waterfall,” said Matěj.
“And have an ice cream.”
“I wanted to look for animal tracks,” said Eliška.
“And climb the lookout tower.”
“And did you?”
The children shook their heads.
“We were too busy looking after all the stuff.”
The fairy opened one of her little pockets.
She took out a perfectly ordinary pine cone.
“I found this ten years ago on an outing with a friend,” she said.
“And do you know why I still have it?”
The children shook their heads.
“Because it reminds me of that day. Rain. The forest. Laughing. And a huge puddle we both fell into.”
Then the fairy pointed at their backpacks.
“Things aren’t bad. Some we love for years. But when we want every single thing we see, we stop valuing any of them.”
“How do we know which one we really want?” Eliška asked.
The fairy smiled.
“I have a little spell.”
She held up three fingers.
“Before you buy something, ask yourselves three questions:
Will I actually play with this at home?
Do I already have something like it?
And will I still be glad I have it tomorrow?”
Matěj looked at the plastic sword.
“I’ve already got two swords at home.”
Eliška studied the glittery little chest.
“And I don’t even know what I’d put in it.”
The fairy snapped her fingers.
POOF!
All the extra things vanished from the backpacks, back to the stall.
The backpacks were light again.
The children ran up the path.
They found the waterfall.
They watched the frogs.
They discovered deer tracks.
They climbed the lookout tower.
And on the way back they passed the stall again.
Matěj paused for a moment by a little wooden train.
“I’d like that.”
Mum said nothing.
Matěj thought.
“I’ve got trains at home.”
He looked a little longer.
“So I don’t need it.”
Eliška found a little cloth bird.
She looked at it for a long time.
“I’d play with it with my dolls,” she said.
“And I don’t have one like this at home.”
Then she thought.
“But I’ll buy it on the way back. If I still want it.”
An hour later they really did pass the stall again.
Eliška remembered the bird.
She still wanted it.
So she got it.
At home she found it a place, played with it, and looked after it.
And from then on, on their outings, you still sometimes heard:
“Ooh, I want that!”
Because children are children.
But right after that, it was usually:
“Wait…”
“Will I play with it at home?”
“Don’t I already have something like it?”
“And will I still want it tomorrow?”
And the fewer things they brought home from their outings, the more they brought back of something else.
Memories.
Of the deer.
Of the waterfall.
Of the ice cream.
Of laughing together.
And those, oddly enough, never rolled away under the bed.
The end.