Springman
“Look at how shiny you are now,” said Springman’s mother, putting away her cleaning supplies. “That took me almost three hours of elbow grease to get you looking this way. You’d better not ever come home with a single speck of rust on you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Springman. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?” asked Springman’s father, coming into the kitchen.
“Mother said I better not get any rust on me, ever,” said Springman.
“Nonsense,” said Father. “You are a boy. You are bound to get rusty. It is all a part of growing up.”
“I will protect you,” said Mother. “Don’t you worry.”
Springman was confused. He wanted to act like a typical boy. He wanted to play in the mud and get dirty but he also didn’t want to disobey his mother.
“How about I take Springman out to the garage with me for a few hours?” asked Father. “There isn’t much he could get into out there that would cause him to get rusty.”
“I suppose,” said Mother. “But one speck of rust on him and he will never go out there again.”
“Don’t be so strict with him,” said Father.
Father took Springman out to the garage with him. Springman was in heaven. There were so many wonderful things he could play with.
“What do you have in your pocket?” asked Father, seeing Springman pick up loose screws, springs, nails and nuts and bolts and put them in his pocket.
“I was made from a spring,” said Springman. “Maybe one of these screws, springs, nails and nuts and bolts might turn out to be just like me.”
“That is a possibility,” said Father. “How about we put them in the old empty tool box so your mother don’t see them. There are some that maybe a bit rusty.”
“Good idea,” said Springman. “I wouldn’t want to upset mother.”
“No,” said Father. “That we definitely don’t want to do.”
Moral of this Story:
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