Every June, we renew an annual tradition at our house in a lovely neighbourhood. Our children are given bowls and asked to collect pieces of nature that remind them of the summer. They leave those bowls on the front doorstep and we go for a walk. When we return, we find fairies( 仙子) have transformed the bowls’ contents into ice cream sundaes (圣代冰淇淋).

I’m not certain how this tradition evolved. I think I was making up something about fairies years ago, and it all just sort of happened. But ever since, it has been one of our favourite routine activities, fascinated with its magic.

“When are the fairies coming?” six-year-old Anna had been asking all last June, eager with expectation. Meanwhile, John, nine, was getting wise to fairies and Father Christmas and such silly things. So he was pretty sure about how all the “magic” came about as the evening approached. “You know, I had everything worked out!” He said he would understand if, during our walk, Mum or Dad should forget something and return home or during the walk a parent might have to fetch something in the car. Many times, we were even thinking of telling him the truth but we didn’t. Anna should enjoy the magic.

The evening arrived as expected. The children collected leaves and blades of grass, pebbles, twigs (树枝) and dead insects. We put their bowls on the front doorstep and went off on our walk as usual. But after a while, I pretended to complain that I had forgotten my keys and needed to go back.

John smiled with a knowing expression. “Oh wait,” I added. “I’ve found them! I don’t have to go back.” As we continued on our way, John was beginning to get a bit confused.

Near our house, after exchanging a glance with my husband, I anxiously warned that the fairies might not have arrived yet — we might need to walk for a bit longer. Hearing what I said, John seemed relieved. “Yes,” he said, “they probably hadn’t come!” Yet when we reached the front door, the bowls were in the same place we had left them — filled exactly with ice cream sundaes.

Seeing this, the two kids gave quite different responses.

It was late but the confusion kept John wide awake, and finally he came to me.

It took place in a teacher’s family. One day, Ben was playing basketball in the living room after school, when he threw the ball at a vase（花瓶）—his mother’s favourite possession. To cover his terrible action, the terrified boy glued（用胶水粘）the pieces together and put the vase back to its place.

The mother noticed the cracks（裂纹）that evening. To her surprise, the repair work was actually very good. At dinner time, she asked her boy if he broke the vase. Fearing punishment, the suddenly inspired boy said that a neighbour’s cat jumped in from the window and he couldn't drive it away. It raced around the living room and finally knocked the vase off its shelf. His mother was quite clear that her son was lying, for all the windows were closed before she left for work each morning and opened after she returned. However, Ben’s mother realized she shouldn't just simply blame and punish her son for lying. She came up with another idea.

Before going to. bed, the boy found a note from his mother in his room, asking him to go to the living room at once. As he had already lied, he was determined to deny（否认）everything to the end, no matter how angry his mum became.

In the living room, calmly bathed in the light, his mother's face showed no sign of anger. Instead, she took a chocolate box out of a drawer and gave him one.

The mother said, "This chocolate is a reward（奖励）for your imagination: a window-opening cat!”

Now with some chocolates in hand, the boy's bad attitude（态度）disappeared.

I live in a small but lovely neighborhood. Our house is neither large nor luxurious, but it has a fairly big garden. My father loves his garden. He planted some seeds in it and took good care of the plants, watering them, applying fertilizer, weeding and getting rid of bugs. He was never tired of doing all that stuff. But at that time, I didn’t understand why working in the dirt excited him so much.

Unfortunately, in the summer vacation before senior high school, my father was seriously injured in an accident. He had to stay in bed for a while. My mother had several business trips, so she couldn’t take care of the garden. I didn’t want my father to worry. I said that I would take care of his garden until he recovered. I assumed that the little plants would continue to grow as long as they had water, and luckily it rained fairly often, so I didn’t think much about the garden.

One Saturday morning, my father said to me, “Christine, the vegetables should be about ready to be picked. Let’s have a salad today!” I went out to the garden and was upset to see that many of the lettuce (生菜) leaves and carrots had been half eaten by bugs. There were hundreds of bugs all over them!

I panicked for a moment but then I quietly went to the nearest supermarket to buy some vegetables. When I was making the salad, my mother came home and saw the bag from the supermarket in the kitchen. I was embarrassed and admitted, “Dad would like a salad, but the garden is a disaster. I don’t want to disappoint him, so I went to the store and bought some vegetables.” My mother smiled, saying, “Honey, you know what is the right thing to do.”

My father seemed very pleased when I took the salad to him.

Feeling guilty, I decided to do the right thing.