Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul: 101 Stories of Courage, Hope and Laughter

by Jack Canfield

  “My wallet! Where is it?” were my first words when I found out my wallet was missing. I searched my memory for a few good seconds, then realized that I had left my precious wallet at the library. Not only did I leave it at the library, but I had left it in the library’s public restroom! I distinctly remembered seeing it on the shelf as I went to the bathroom.

  Because the library was now closed, I had to wait until the next morning to begin my search. When I got there the next day, all I found was a sparkling clean restroom, its counters clean and its floors shiny white. This was the first time I could remember ever hating to see a clean bathroom. As I walked out, I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head at the forgetful fool in front of me.

  Now all I could hope for was that the person who cleaned the restroom had found my wallet. So I politely approached an old lady reading her book at the front desk. I asked her if a wallet had been found in the bathroom yesterday. She didn’t answer me until she found a good place to pull herself away from her book. Then she peered at me from behind the thick black glasses parked on her nose. Letting out a quiet sigh, she slowly struggled out of her comfortable sitting position. She walked through a door and vanished for a moment. Then she came back to the desk.

  “No.”

  That was that. I quickly thanked her and walked off.

  I wondered what I would do if I had found a wallet containing sixty dollars, a phone card and many other irreplaceable personal items. Finally, I painfully accepted the fact that my wallet was gone.

  A week later, after I had canceled my bank card and reported my license missing, I received a mysterious package in the mail. Sure enough, it was my wallet! And most amazingly, nothing was missing! But something was different about it. There was a little yellow sheet of paper folded up in one of the wallet pockets that had not been there before. I slowly unfolded the paper. Into my hand fell a little copper medallion of Christ. The letter read something like this:

  Always keep this medallion with you, no matter what your religion is, so that the angel that was watching over you last week will always be close.

  This person didn’t even leave a return address, so I couldn’t thank whoever it was. I felt that this was an act of pure kindness that was extremely rare.

  From that day on, I promised myself that whenever I am in a situation where I can help others the way that this person helped me, I will follow this example and make them as happy as I was when I opened that package!

  Laksman Frank, age 16

  © Lynn Johnston Productions, Inc. Distributed by United Feature Syndicate, Inc.

  Small Talk

  Iwill speak to youth which can accomplish everything, precisely because it accepts no past, obeys no present and fears no future.

  Rudyard Kipling

  Coffee Soldiers

  My mom is a first-grade teacher. It was around Christmas, and all the kids were really hyper. A little boy came into her room and put a coffee mug filled with toy soldiers on her desk. She asked what it was for, and he said, “The best part of waking up is soldiers in your cup.”

  Vanessa Breeden, age 12

  Belated Birthday

  One day after work, I was driving my two sons home from school when Christopher asked if we could stop at a store so he could buy a birthday gift to take to school the next day. I said, “Sure, but why?” He proceeded to tell me that tomorrow would be George Washington’s birthday, and he wanted to take him a gift.

  His older brother, Richard, looked at Christopher and said, “He’s dead, stupid!”

  Christopher’s quick reply was, “Darn, I knew we should have bought it sooner!”

  Lois Wooster Gopin

  Turkey Day

  As a teacher, I know that kindergarten has always been a place to learn important lessons. So, one day when I was visiting the school where my husband was the principal, I went to discover the place of wonder—the kindergarten class.

  There, I noticed a little girl busily slapping paint on an easel. To my eye, her creation seemed to be nothing more than a big red blob. “Tell me about your painting,” I said.

  The young artist stopped painting. She backed away from the easel and gave her work a careful look. Then she heaved a heavy sigh and exclaimed, “It’s a turkey!”

  After what seemed an eternity, she added, “And tomorrow, I’m going to put the skin on it!”

  Meg Conner

  Being Tall

  I wish I was tall. Taller than the basketball players, so that I could dunk the ball so bad. My friends tell me that I am not going to growanymore—but that’s not true. I don’t believe them. I am going to be taller. I just have to wait.

  Bader Alshammeri, age 14

  Yes, Sir!

  My three-year-old brother had been told several times to get ready for bed. The last time that my mom told him, she was very insistent. His response was, “Yes, Sir!” Since he was talking to our mother (and she is a woman), we didn’t expect him to call her “Sir.”

  “You would say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ to a man. I am a lady, and you would say ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ to a lady,” Mom said. To quiz him on his lesson, she then asked him, “What would you say to Daddy?”

  “Yes, Sir!” came the reply.

  “Then what would you say to Mama?”

  “Yes, Ma’am!” he proudly answered.

  “Good boy! Now what would you say to Grandma?”

  He lit up and said, “Can I have a cookie?”

  Elizabeth Cornish, age 12

  Just a Slight Misunderstanding

  In my class, when a person has a birthday, instead of being given a present, the birthday person brings a book to our class for the in-room library. On my birthday, I chose my favorite book: There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

  I went to the bookstore and asked the lady behind the counter, “Do you carry There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? ” Instead of looking it up on the computer as I thought she would, she said, “Just a minute,” and she disappeared. My mom and I waited and waited.

  Finally she came back, and she said to me, “There’s no one there now—he must have gone home with his mother.”

  I started laughing, and so did my mom. The lady was embarrassed—I guess she hadn’t heard me say the words, “Do you carry . . . ?” She had been gone that entire time, looking for a boy in the girls’ bathroom.

  Melanie Hansen, age 10

  A French Accent

  Last summer my family and I went to the beach for a camping trip. When we arrived at the campground, all my cousins, aunts, uncles, and even my grandparents were there. After we got the tent set up, the adults started to make dinner. All of the kids went down to the river.

  When we arrived, there were some older kids throwing rocks in the river, so we decided to go downriver a little. As we turned around to leave, my little ten-year-old cousin was already having a blast. He was yelling and throwing rocks in the river. My cousin has a speech problem, so he speaks in kind of a funny way.

  As we were walking away, the older kids started laughing at my cousin. They were teasing him and making fun of how he talks. At first he started to get really upset, but then he turned around and asked them why they were laughing. They told him that he talked stupidly. Then he asked them, “What, haven’t you ever heard a French accent before?”

  They just stood there for a minute with dumb looks on their faces and finally just walked away.

  Erin Althauser, age 13

  The Science Snack

  In my class, we were doing an experiment on mold and how it grows. We were studying the effects that light and dark would have on the mold. For our concluding science project, we placed pieces of moist bread in various places in the room. Some were placed in the back corner, where it was darker, and others were placed in the front part of the room. We also put some pieces out on our back porch, in the sunlight.

  Several hours later, we checked on our specimens to see how they were doing. The ones left on the back porch were nowhere to be
found. We searched high and low, but the pieces of bread had simply disappeared.

  We later found out that the kindergartners, out at recess, had seen this “feast” laid out before their very eyes. They decided that this was a snack made just for them, so they ate our science experiment—soggy bread, mold and all.

  Dr. Sherry L. Meinberg

  Eyelids

  When I was five years old, my dad told me that I could watch a movie all night called Eyelids. I got excited when bedtime came. “Can I watch Eyelids now?” I asked. But Dad said, “Time to go to bed, son.” I reminded him of how he had told me that I could watch the movie Eyelids. He said, “You have to go to sleep, with your eyes closed, to be able to see your eyelids.” So ever since then, I think before I ask questions like that. I don’t want to be tricked again.

  Joshua Cantrell, age 12

  The Great Pumpkin

  By the time I entered the eighth grade, I had already grown to six feet two inches tall. I was at least a foot taller than any of the other kids at my school, and I was so self-conscious that I didn’t even want to talk to anyone. I walked around sort of bent over to hide my height.

  All the kids at school listened to a disk jockey on WLS called the Great Pumpkin. He had a popular program where he answered letters on the air from the kids who wrote to him. I figured that if anyone could solve my problem, it would be the Great Pumpkin. So I wrote:

  Dear Great Pumpkin:

  My name is Mark Victor Hansen, and I am in the eighth grade at Jack Benny Junior High. I am six feet two inches tall and taller than anyone else in school. What should I do?

  Yours truly,

  Mark Victor Hansen

  A week after mailing my letter to the Great Pumpkin, I was getting ready for school while I listened to his show. Then I heard, “To Mark Victor Hansen at Jack Benny Junior High: Cut off your head and carry it to school in a paper bag!”

  The rest of the week everyone at school kept asking me, “Hey, Markie, where’s your paper bag?”

  Just because someone is popular like the Great Pumpkin doesn’t mean they know all the answers.

  Mark Victor Hansen

  The Day I Figured Out That

  No One Is Perfect

  Once there was a girl in my class that I thought was beautiful and smart. I believed that she was perfect. When it came time for my birthday, I invited her to my party, and she came.

  A few months later, it was her birthday. I got a special necklace for her. Thinking about how happy she would be to receive my gift made me so excited.

  I asked her when her birthday party was going to be. She replied, “Why do you want to know? You’re not invited. You’re just a dork with glasses!”

  I felt really bad when she said that. I just stood there looking at her. Everyone standing by her came to stand next to me. Then we all left.

  That day, I figured out that even if someone looks perfect, there is a very good possibility that they aren’t. When it comes to perfection, it’s how someone treats you that is more important than how they look.

  Ellie Logan, age 9

  CALVIN AND HOBBES. Distributed by Universal Press Syndicate. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

  The Little Notice

  Honesty’s the best policy.

  Benjamin Franklin

  Once upon a time, when I was in the sixth grade, I got a disciplinary, “Child-Has-Done-Bad” notice, “Child-Has-Been-Cutting-Up-In-Class” type notice, which was actually known as a “Yellow Slip.” I brought it home, but I was really bad about dealing with this kind of thing. My plan was to always get my disciplinary slips signed in the morning before school, right before I had to get out of the car. I would say, “Well, Dad, there’s one more thing. I got this little notice, and I need you to sign it so I can go to class.” That way, I could avoid a punishment. I was think-in’ that I was really smart!

  But this particular morning, I was kind of chicken, and I just got out of the car. My father got out, too, to tell me something. I walked around to his side and showed him the little notice. He was in the middle of the street with the car still running.

  I was like, “Sign it real quick,” you know. Then I began to joke around with him by saying stuff like, “Actually, it isn’t a real disciplinary notice; it’s a fake one. It’s just a test. See, see, you’re getting mad! You’re passing the test! You’re supposed to get mad—it’s a test for the parents. I’m supposed to report to my teacher, ’cause they’re looking to see if we’re having family problems and stuff like that. . . . ”

  He didn’t laugh at my joking about it. He signed the little notice, but he told me that this time I wasn’t gettin’ off easy and that I was really gonna get it when I got home.

  That was the longest day I’d ever gone through. The day just dragged on and on. I was thinking about all the ways that Dad could decide to punish me, like grounding me from hangin’ around with my friends, or even worse, no TV for a month. That would have killed me, ’cause I’m such a big TV head!

  When my father picked me up, I tried to be a little angel, you know, hoping that he’d forget about the punishment. We got home and went in the house, and everything was cool, right? But then he says, “Alright, get upstairs and wait for me.” I was thinkin’, “OOOHHH maaan!”

  Well, I didn’t lose a month of TV, but I got a spankin’ that I never forgot. It got the message across real clear, and I learned my lesson. Don’t hold out on your parents! Just go ahead and tell the truth, ’cause it shall set you free!

  Kenan Thompson

  Teenagers

  They wear clothes too tight.

  They wear clothes too big.

  They have funky hair styles,

  I think they need a wig.

  They’re allowed to stay out.

  They’re allowed to make out.

  They’re allowed to wear clothes

  That let it all hang out.

  They’re allowed to have boyfriends.

  They’re allowed to have girlfriends.

  They can’t mind their business.

  They’re way far into trends.

  They’re snotty and conceited.

  They think they’re all that,

  They make me want to puke.

  Next year . . .

  Will I be like that?

  Melissa Mercedes, age 12

  “I sure hope Billy's guardian angel

  doesn't go on strike.”

  Reprinted by permission of Bil Keane.

  My Guardian Angel

  We all take for granted the great gift of life. You don’t really notice how special it is until death looks you in the eyes.

  When I was about two years old, I had a near-death experience. I don’t really remember much about it except for what my mom told me.

  It was a hot summer day, and everybody had gone outside to enjoy the weather. My sister and her friend jumped into our backyard pool to cool off. I did not know how to swim yet. My mom would always watch all of us very closely, but just for a minute, she had walked over to the side of the yard to talk to my dad. She told my sister to watch out for me, but my sister was busy laughing and having fun with her friend.

  Before anyone knew it, I fell into the pool. No one heard me because I was so little; there was hardly a splash.

  What happened next was amazing. My mom says it felt as though someone tapped her on the shoulder, but when she turned around no one was there. It was then that she noticed I wasn’t in sight. She ran over to the pool, looking for me. She saw me in the pool, kicking and waving my arms in the air, trying to keep my head above the water. She jumped in and pulled me out. Luckily I was okay. She held me in her arms and thanked God that I was all right.

  All of this happened within less than a minute. It shows how very precious life really is and how it can be lost in the blink of an eye.

  No one really knows why my mom turned around. To this day, she thinks that it was my guardian angel tapping her on the shoulder.

  Tr
avis Ebel, age 14

  Grandpa’s Bees

  Ihave known it for a long time but now I have experienced it. Now I know it not only with my intellect, but with my eyes, with my heart, with my stomach.

  Hermann Hesse

  A long time before I was born, my grandma and grandpa moved into the house on Beechwood Avenue. They had a young family of four little girls. The little girls slept in the attic in a big feather bed. It was cold there on winter nights. Grandma put hot bricks under the covers at the foot of the bed to keep the girls warm.

  During the Great Depression work was hard to find, so Grandpa did whatever jobs he could. He dug ditches during the week, and on weekends he and Grandma dug a garden to grow some of their own food.

  The house on Beechwood Avenue had a big front yard with shade trees and fruit trees. In the middle of the yard was a water pump where the four little girls pumped water for cooking, cleaning and watering the garden. On one side of the yard Grandma and Grandpa planted tomatoes, beans, squash, cucumbers, peppers and strawberries to feed their growing family. They planted roses, geraniums, lilacs and irises on the other side of the yard, around the statue of the Blessed Mother.

  Everybody worked to keep the garden growing. All summer long the family ate food from the garden and enjoyed the beautiful flowers. Grandma put up strawberry jam, tomatoes, beans, peppers, pears and peaches in canning jars. They were good to eat through the long winter.

  The family grew up, and before too many years had passed, grandchildren came to visit. Grandma and Grandpa still planted their garden every spring. Everyone still enjoyed the good food from the garden and always took some home.