The Missing Letter
in the Jug

High in the branches of the great oak, inside an acorn with windows, live two of the silliest letters in the Land.

G is giggly, with a grin so contagious that even the grumpiest beetle grins back. J is jumpy, bouncing like a spring, and J loves a good joke more than anything.

One golden afternoon, they squeezed and squashed until they had a big bowl brimming with beautiful purple juice. But when they went to pour it, there was nothing to pour it into.

"We need a jug," said G.

In the Land of Letters, when letters spell a true word, the word comes true. So G and J ran to the clearing. J jumped to the front — jug starts with j-j-j. G stood at the end — jug ends with g-g-g.

J   _   G

Nothing happened. Something was missing right in the middle.

Down the path came the vowels. "We heard a word needs a middle!" said O, rolling up first.

J  ·  O  ·  G  — JOG!

Suddenly everybody's legs began to jog — around the clearing, around the juice bowl, until O hopped out, puffing. "Whew! Wrong word. Right exercise."

"My turn!" said I. "It is clearly i-i-i you need."

J  ·  I  ·  G  — JIG!

Oh yes. Everybody's feet began to dance — heel, toe, heel, toe! G giggled so hard the acorn treehouse shook. But when the jig let their feet go, the juice still sat in its bowl, and everyone was thirstier than ever.

"We are missing someone," said E quietly. Everyone turned and looked up the hill.

"U!" they called. "U! We need U!"

U set down the paintbrush — U had been painting the colors of the sinking sun, the way U did every evening. U looked at the half-spelled word, and smiled a quiet smile.

U walked down the hill, stepped gently into the middle space, and stood.

J  ·  U  ·  G JUG

And there it was: a fine, fat clay jug, round as a pumpkin, sitting in the grass as if it had always been there.

G and J poured every drop of the beautiful purple juice into the jug, and the jug poured it into cups for everyone — with a big one for U, the letter worth waiting for.

"To taking turns!" said J, raising a cup.

"To trying!" giggled G. "Every wrong try gave us a true word. We jogged. We jigged!"

"And that," said E, "is how learning works. No try is ever wasted."

So the friends sat in the clearing, sipping juice while U's painted sunset dried on the hill, and the real one bloomed above the trees, twice as beautiful.