The Vase That Wiggled — Every morning, Quincy tucked his chipped blue vase beneath the sunflower stall and used it to hold only string, tags, and one bent measuring spoon. Read the full story →
Every morning, Quincy tucked his chipped blue vase beneath the sunflower stall and used it to hold only string, tags, and one bent measuring spoon. It looked ordinary, but his mother had painted the tiny hearts on it during their first week at the market, when the air smelled of lemon polish and warm seed buns.
Until one day, the vase began to wiggle. Because of that, Quincy stuffed it with sunflowers to weigh it down. Because of THAT, every stem leaned toward the pickle cart, where a sneaky ferret was stealing ribbon from Mrs. Plunk’s hat boxes. “Traitor vase,” Quincy whispered as it scooted after the thief, bow flapping.
At last, the ferret sneezed from sunflower dust and dropped a shiny thimble, the mayor’s missing measuring cup for the pie contest. The whole market cheered. Quincy set the vase in the center of his stall, not underneath it, where the hearts could show. Next time you spot the bow and dangling hearts, ask yourself if that vase is sitting still—or only pretending.
