The Boy and the Filberts

Once upon a snacky afternoon, a young boy found himself face-to-face with the shiniest, crunchiest jar of filberts he had ever seen in his entire life—which, to be fair, was about seven and a half years.

“Oh-ho!” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together like a little squirrel with a plot. “These filberts are about to have themselves a new home: my mouth!”

So, without a second thought, he plunged his hand into the jar and grabbed a massive handful. A handful so big that it was practically bursting out between his fingers. But there was a problem. He tried to pull his hand out, but—clink—his hand was stuck!

He wriggled, he jiggled, he did a little wiggle-shuffle that looked sort of like a dance move his mom would definitely not approve of at the school talent show. But the jar wouldn’t budge. His hand was in there, clamped in by the mighty grip of too many filberts.

“Oh nooo!” the boy groaned dramatically. “I'm trapped! Caught by the filberts!” He looked around the empty kitchen, trying to work up a few tears just in case someone walked by. “This is the end for me. Doomed by my love of snacks!”

Just then, a kind person, who happened to be passing by, noticed the boy’s pitiful struggle.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, trying not to giggle. “Got yourself in a bit of a jam, have you?”

The boy looked up with wide, pleading eyes. “The filberts! They’re all in there, but my hand is all out here, and they just won’t let go! I need these filberts in my life. All of them! Every. Single. One.”

The kind person gave him a knowing smile and leaned down, whispering as if sharing a very important secret.

“Listen, buddy,” he said, “you’re going to have to let a few go. I know it’s tough—these are top-tier filberts, no doubt. But how about you take half now? A little filbert snack, then another snack later?”

The boy blinked, still clinging to his fistful of nuts. “Half? But…but then I won’t have all the filberts. And what if they get lonely in there?”

The kind person chuckled. “Well, if you don’t let go of some, you’ll be keeping none of the filberts. Plus, I promise they won’t get lonely; they’ll be too busy thinking about how you’ll come back for them later!”

The boy sighed dramatically, looking like a tiny actor in a snack-themed soap opera. But after a deep, dramatic breath, he let go of half of the filberts. His hand slipped out of the jar like magic.

He held the remaining filberts in his hand and looked up, grinning. “All right, you wise one, I guess that’ll do. Half now, half later—it’s kind of like a bonus snack!”

And off he went, munching happily, already dreaming of his next visit to the magical filbert jar.

On the table, a jar of nuts sat,
A young boy saw, and thought of that.
He reached inside with glee and zest,
To grab the most, to grab the best.

His hand went in, with all his might,
He grabbed a bunch, oh what a sight!
But oh! The trouble soon began,
His fist too full to leave the can.

He pulled and tugged with all his will,
His eyes grew sad, his heart stood still.
"You've grasped too much," a kind voice peeped,
"Just half the nuts," the wise one beeped.

The boy then paused, and thought a while,
He dropped some nuts, then cracked a smile.
With fewer nuts, his hand slid out,
He learned what sharing's all about.

With half the nuts, still in his palm,
He felt quite happy, calm and warm.
For in that moment, he could see,
It’s best to take but modestly.