The Little Boy’s Toy

The little boy stood outside the toy store. A bright red shirt, blue pants and shiny black boots. The toy in the store was indeed well dressed. Oh, how the little boy wanted that toy. How badly he wanted to play with it.. Probably nobody knew how he felt. He would play with it all the time and never let it go. He could see it clearly, how the toy was made for him. He closed his eyes and imagined his life with that toy. He opened his eyes. The temptation was too great. He moved his hand to grab the toy, but was stopped by the glass window.

For the first time he noticed the glass between him and the toy at the store. As he stared at this villain that blocked him from his toy, he noticed something else. He saw his reflection, a thin, little boy, wearing old,torn pants, a dirty white shirt and a jacket that was older than him. The toy had better clothes than him. He slowly moved away from the window, and his toy. No, it was not his toy, he reminded himself, and started running towards his house.

He stopped running after a couple of minutes. It was difficult to run in the snow with tattered shoes. His body had warmed up from running, which felt good in this cold weather. This warmth brought a sense of comfort to him, but there was still a bit of uneasiness left in his heart. He could not forget the toy. Oh, how badly he wanted that toy, and how happy he would be if his father bought it for him. It would have been the perfect gift. A gift, he knew, he would never get.

The little boy walked slowly towards his house. His father was a carpenter, and his earnings were little. He was the only source of income for the family. The little boy knew this. He knew his father did his best to bring smile to his face, while he himself had a hard time. The little boy understood all this, yet how happy he would be if his father got him that toy with the red shirt. But he knew that won’t happen.

The more he thought about the toy, the more he became angry at his father. “What a useless father,” he thought, “can’t even give me that toy.” As soon as he thought this, he reminded himself, “Its not father’s fault.”

He stopped outside his house, the smallest building in the town. His father had built it himself, and even if it was small, it was his home. He felt a little bit of happiness warming his heart. Still, he could not forget that toy at the toystore, the one he almost had. He took a deep breathe and walked into the house. To his surprise his father was home early, waiting for him with his mother.

“Where have you been?” his father asked, “I have been waiting for you.”

He tried to answer, but his father continued, “Here, I got something for you. I hope you like it.”, as he put something in his little hands.

As soon as the little boy saw what it was, he hugged his father tight. No words came out as he held the little wooden man his father had made in his hands. It was clumsily crafted, but for the little boy it was the most wonderful toy in the world, even better than the toy he saw at the toy store, because unlike all the other toys out there, this toy was his very own toy.

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