The Leaky Little Bucket

By the little river stood a small wooden cottage.

On its door hung a sign—

"Ding-Ding's Toolbox."

Today the sun was big and hot, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

Flip-flap, flip-flap, flip-flap—

Quackie the little duck came waddling over, hugging a little bucket.

"Ding-Ding! Ding-Ding!"

"My bucket has a tiny little hole,"

"and when I fill it up, the water keeps leaking out, and leaking out!"

Quackie set the bucket down.

"Up on the hill, there's my little flower,"

"The sun is so hot, and my little flower is thirsty."

"I went to the river to fill my bucket, and halfway there—all the water leaked out."

"I filled it up again, and halfway there—it leaked out again."

"I walked three whole times, and my little flower didn't get one single drop!"

Quackie stomped her feet and stuck out her beak in a great big pout.

"It keeps leaking, and leaking! I don't want it anymore!"

Ding-Ding knelt down and patted her gently.

"The same yucky thing keeps happening, again and again, doesn't it?"

"Mm-hmm..." Quackie said:

"My insides feel all prickly, and my eyebrows are all scrunched up."

"That feeling," said Ding-Ding, "is called annoyed.

When a yucky thing keeps happening, again and again,

your insides feel prickly and your eyebrows scrunch up,

like a tiny mosquito buzzing by your ear—bzzz, bzzz—that just won't go away."

Ding-Ding picked up the bucket and turned it over for a look.

Right on the bottom was a tiny little hole.

Then she jumped up and shouted:

"A hole? Awesome!"

"A-awesome?" Quackie's beak fell wide open.

"That's right!" said Ding-Ding.

"Broken things are just waiting for a brand-new start."

"Come on, let's give this bucket a change!"

Ding-Ding opened her toolbox.

She dug and dug, looked and looked—found it!

A small, round wooden plug.

Tink-tink-tonk, tink-tink-tonk.

She pushed the plug into the hole and tapped it in, nice and snug.

"Let Ding-Ding try it first."

Ding-Ding filled the bucket with water and took one step, two steps, three steps—

Drip, drip, drip.

The water snuck right out around the edge of the plug.

"Oh dear, it's still leaking."

"That's okay, let's try again!"

Ding-Ding found a soft little cloth,

pressed it onto the bottom of the bucket, and pushed down hard.

"This time it'll work for sure!"

She filled the bucket again—

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop.

The little cloth got soggy, and the water leaked out again.

"Oh dear, that doesn't work either."

Quackie let out a big sigh.

"Ohh... my little flower won't get any water today."

Ding-Ding sat down too, and looked at the drip-dropping bucket.

Drip by drip, the water fell on a little blade of grass by their feet.

She looked, and looked—and suddenly, she tilted her head—

"Huh?" Quackie pointed down by her feet.

"The little grass is all wet and shiny."

"The little grass is drinking!"

"Quackie, look!" Ding-Ding jumped up, her eyes shining.

"The bucket leaks, and the water runs out."

"But the water that runs out—the little grass gets to drink it!"

"We kept trying to plug up the hole."

"But a bucket that leaks

can become a rain bucket!"

Ding-Ding opened her toolbox.

She dug and dug, looked and looked—found it!

A little nail and a little hammer.

"Quackie, stand back and watch from over there."

"A nail is pointy. It's a fixer's tool.

It's not for little ones to hold."

Tink-tink-tonk, tink-tink-tonk.

All along the bottom of the bucket,

she tapped one hole, two holes, lots and lots of tiny little holes.

Together, they walked up the hill.

The little flower's leaves were floppy, and its head hung low.

Right above the little flower was a branch.

Ding-Ding climbed up on a little stool.

"Quackie, hold the stool steady for me."

She hung the bucket up on the branch, high and tight.

Ding-Ding gave it a tug and a wiggle—

Nice and tight. It wouldn't fall.

All done!

Ding-Ding carried a great big jug of water up from the river.

The jug was so heavy, so heavy—Quackie couldn't lift it at all.

But once it was poured into the rain bucket, the little flower could drink slowly, for a long, long time.

"Rain bucket, off you go!"

Sploosh—the water poured into the bucket.

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop,

the water fell from the tiny little holes,

like a small, cool rain shower.

The little flower drank and drank,

and slowly, slowly, its leaves stood up tall.

Quackie stepped under the bucket too.

She spread her wings and lifted her head—

"Wow—it's raining!"

Drip-drop, drip-drop, on her head, on her wings.

Quackie wiggled her tail. Quack-quack-quack!

"The flower gets a drink, and Quackie gets a bath!"

Ding-Ding smiled and said:

"Slow and gentle, gentle and slow—no big jumps, okay?"

Quackie gave Ding-Ding a great big hug, all wet and drippy.

"Thank you, Ding-Ding!"

"This morning I was so annoyed,"

"and now my bucket can make rain!"

Ding-Ding twirled the wrench in her paw and said with a great big smile:

"See? A hole? Awesome!"

Ding-Ding picked up her toolbox and walked back to her little cottage.

Today, she fixed something again.

No, wait—now there's a brand-new rain bucket:

when the sun is big and hot,

it drips, and drips, slowly, all by itself.

Tomorrow, what broken treasure will come knocking on her door?