The Three Little Pigs
Three pig brothers face the Big Bad Wolf — and discover that hard work really does pay off.
Papa settled against the headboard and opened the big storybook, and the three kids — Rosa, Benny, and little Mira — immediately started fighting over who got to lean on which dad. "One on each side," said Daddy firmly, "and Mira in the middle." Daddy was tall with glasses and was very good at being firm. Papa had curly dark hair and was very good at the voices. He cleared his throat.
"Once upon a time," Papa began, "three little pigs said goodbye to their mother and set off to build homes of their own in the wide world..."
The first little pig was in a hurry. He gathered up a great pile of golden straw and built himself a house as fast as he could. It was done by lunchtime, which left the whole afternoon for napping. "Done!" he announced proudly, and settled in for a snooze.
The second little pig worked a little harder. He found a pile of sticks — good thick ones — and spent most of the day building his house. It had real walls and a proper door, and he was quite pleased with it. Not as grand as brick, he thought, but good enough.
The third little pig mixed mortar. He laid bricks, one by one, row by row, all day long and into the evening. His brothers laughed at him. "You work too hard!" they called. "Come play!" But the third little pig kept laying bricks. He wanted his house to stand.
One morning, a very large, very hungry Wolf came prowling through the wood.
He found the first little pig's straw house and knocked on the door. "Little pig, little pig — let me come in!"
"Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!" squealed the pig from inside.
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!"
And he did. One enormous breath and the straw house flew apart in every direction. The first little pig ran screaming to his brother's stick house and they barred the door.
The Wolf followed. "Little pigs, little pigs — let me come in!"
"Not by the hair on our chinny-chin-chins!"
"Then I'll HUFF and I'll PUFF!"
He huffed and he puffed and he puffed and he huffed — and the stick house groaned, shuddered, and gave way. The two little pigs fled down the road to their brother's brick house as fast as their trotters could carry them.
The Wolf arrived at the brick house and looked it over. He puffed up his cheeks and blew with everything he had.
Nothing happened.
He blew again. And again. The house didn't shake. The bricks didn't budge. Not a single mortar joint cracked.
Inside, the three little pigs listened to the wind howling around their solid walls, and the fireplace glowed warm, and the hot chocolate steamed, and they felt very safe and very glad. The third little pig said nothing — he just smiled and passed the biscuits.
The Wolf, cold and defeated, finally slunk away into the trees.
That night, the first and second little pigs looked at their brother with new eyes.
"We thought you were working too hard," said the first.
"We were wrong," said the second.
"It's okay," said the third little pig. "Building something properly just takes time. That's all."
Outside, the rain pattered on the strong brick walls. Inside, the three brothers were warm and safe — and the first two little pigs had already decided what they were going to build in the morning.
Papa closed the book. In the bed, Benny was already half asleep. Rosa was thinking hard.
"Papa," she said, "which pig were you when you were little?"
Papa and Daddy looked at each other. Daddy raised an eyebrow.
"The second one," Papa admitted. "But I married the third one."
Daddy laughed. Rosa smiled. Even Mira, who was three and probably hadn't followed most of it, clapped her hands once and said, "Bwicks."
"That's right, baby," said Daddy, turning off the lamp. "Bricks."
The Lesson
Take time to do things properly — shortcuts rarely hold up.