Once in a while, incredible things happened at the magical preschool. It was an extraordinary preschool. With every new season, new magical spells arrived there. Right now, it was springtime. Everything was in bloom, and all the seeds the children had planted were starting to sprout. Paper butterflies fluttered their wings and ladybugs made of cloth crawled among the tiny flowerpots. The entire preschool was in bloom and alive.
Even objects in the kitchen were doing whatever they wanted. When the cook wanted to wash the children’s mugs, suddenly one mug leapt out of the dishwasher. She put it back immediately, but before she could close the door, it jumped out again. It hopped along the table and sang: “Washing isn’t fun, that’s why I’m on the run. I want to be dirty, and a little sticky.” “Oh, come now, little mug, stop this nonsense. Don’t be naughty and get back in the dishwasher. You can’t stay sticky forever. No one will want to drink from you,” the cook tried to convince him nicely. But the mug was stubborn. It didn’t want to be washed and definitely not with soap. And it hopped as far away from the dishwasher and the water inside it as it could. So, the cook gave up on it. She didn’t want to argue or fight with the mug.
Several weeks passed, and the cook was at the preschool kitchen, putting dishes from snack time into the dishwasher. Suddenly, she heard some sort of quiet sniffling. She looked around to check that none of the children hadn’t hidden in the kitchen and was now crying. But she couldn’t see anyone. She listened, trying to figure out where the faint sobs were coming from. It seemed they were coming from the cabinet. She slowly opened it and peeked inside, but for a while she couldn’t figure out who was sniffling. Until she spotted a dirty, smudged-up mug in the corner a moment later. “What are you doing in there? Why are you hiding?” the cook asked. “No one wants me. Yesterday, the children came into the kitchen to choose their mugs to drink from and when they saw me, they pushed me aside and said I wasn’t even good enough to be a flowerpot, let alone for drinking. And then I hid myself here in the corner and started crying,” the mug replied.
“Oh, little mug. And you’re surprised? You’re all dirty, sticky, and you don’t smell very good. Well, come on then. Don’t cry, get up. We can still fix it. I’ll soap you up really good and get all the grease off of you, and then I’ll put you in with the other mugs and you’ll see that someone will pick you again,” the cook explained, grabbing the mug from the corner of the cabinet. That’s when the mug started to hop away again, saying it didn’t want to go in the dishwasher, that he didn’t like it. But then he remembered what the children had said. He was sad that he’d been so stubborn. It was the only reason he was being pushed aside now.
Finally, the mug allowed the cook to wash it out and get rid of all the grease. It even turned this way and that so that the cook wouldn’t miss a single dirty spot. Then she placed the mug with the others. And when the children arrived, the mug was all nervous. It was full of fear. It was scared that no child would choose it. The mugs all around it were disappearing in children’s hands and the mug was still on the shelf. It tried to straighten up and show off in the best light. Until suddenly, he could hear a child’s voice say: “Here you are. I’ve finally found you. Don’t hide again, my favorite mug.”
And then the mug felt a child pick it up with its small hand, caress it nicely, and smile at it. The mug was so glad. It felt so good. It was clean and smelled nice and it had just found out that someone had missed it. The mug would never be so selfish and stubborn to sulk and refuse to get washed. It knew that it only hurt itself by behaving like that. Also, the mug was happy that the cook hadn’t given up on it. And that she’d helped the mug put itself back in order.