The True Story of the Three Little Pigs
A playful retelling in which the wolf narrates his very funny side of the Three Little Pigs episode with warmth and humor, showing that every tale has more than one side and encouraging children to listen and imagine different perspectives.
Hello! I am Mr. Woolf—yes, that’s my name—and I wear a mustard vest and round glasses. Today I hold a picture book and I will tell you my very true, very funny side of the Three Little Pigs. Sit close. I’ll whisper and wink.
The first pig I met is Straw Pig. He is small, wears orange dungarees and a straw hat, and he giggles a lot. One sunny morning, I walked by and saw Straw Pig building a tiny house of straw. It looked like a golden pillow under the blue sky. "Hello, Mr. Woolf!" Straw Pig sang, swinging his little straw hat. "Want to help?"
I smiled my warmest smile. "I'd love to watch," I said, and I sat on a nearby log. I had been keeping warm in my mustard vest and sipping nettle tea from a mug. The sun felt cozy, and my glasses sparkled. Suddenly—ACHOO! I sneezed the tiniest sneeze. But the breeze joined in and woosh! A few loose straws floated like tiny butterflies. Straw Pig laughed and clapped. "That tickled!" he giggled. "It's like confetti!" We picked up the straws together and sang a silly cleanup song. Straw Pig was curious about everything and asked me about the clouds, the trees, and why my glasses fogged sometimes. I told him a story about the moon. We were friends in the straw-dusty way of new friends.
A little later, I walked down the lane and met Brick Pig. He is a bit taller, wears blue overalls and a hard hat, and he carries a bright red brick on his strong shoulder. He was building a house that looked like a tiny, sunproof castle. "Hello, Mr. Woolf," Brick Pig said in his steady kind voice. "Careful on the bricks. They are heavy." "I will be careful," I promised. I was curious about bricks. Brick Pig explained how bricks fit together like puzzle pieces, and how when friends work slowly and kindly, houses stand much longer.
One afternoon a gust of wind came down the lane. I tried to hold my hat, and my tea nearly tumbled. I clapped my paws to keep balance and—ACHOO!—I sneezed again. This time a puff of air puffed out like a little cloud and it made a straw or two float up like a paper plane. Straw Pig giggled all the more. Brick Pig watched, shook his hard hat and invited us both inside. "Tea?" he asked. We sat in his sturdy room with the red brick walls and a bookshelf. Brick Pig made warm cocoa. Straw Pig put his straw hat on a hook and told us a new joke. I read from my picture book about brave ants. We laughed and listened to each other’s stories until the stars came out.
If you ask around, you might hear a different version of that day. But this is my side: I am a warm, playful storyteller in a mustard vest and glasses who sneezes sometimes and likes to make friends. The world is better when we listen to each other's tales and giggle together.