The Ant and the Grasshopper a personalized book with your child as the hero

One bright summer morning, a child wandered into a garden where the grass was tall and the clover hummed with bees. Near the path, a little ant was hurrying along with a single grain of wheat held high above her head. The grain was nearly as big as she was, but she carried it steadily, step after step.

Just above her, on a broad green leaf, sat a grasshopper with shining wings. He was playing a tiny violin, and the tune was so merry that the ladybirds seemed to dance on the stems. When he saw the child, he bowed so deeply that his leaf bounced.

"Good morning!" he said. "Summer is for singing. Come and listen!"

The child listened for a while, because the music was lovely. Then the child looked down at the ant, who had not stopped walking. "Where are you taking that grain?" the child asked.

"To my pantry," said the ant, a little out of breath. "Summer is generous, but it does not last forever. I would like to be ready."

The child thought that sounded sensible. "May I help?" The ant smiled and pointed to a patch of ground where grains had fallen from the tall stalks. The child fetched a small woven basket, and together they gathered the grains one by one. The ant led the way to her pantry, a round door tucked beneath the roots of an old tree. Inside, the shelves were still bare, but they were clean and dry.

All day the basket grew heavier, and all day the grasshopper played. Sometimes he called out a cheerful verse about sunshine and dandelions. The child waved at him, and he waved his bow in return.

By and by, a grey cloud slid across the sky. A cool breeze rippled through the grass and set the leaves turning over. The child felt it on both arms, and the ant lifted her head.

"The weather is changing," said the ant. "Would you like to help us, grasshopper? There is room in the work for another pair of hands."

"Oh, there is plenty of time!" laughed the grasshopper, tapping his foot. "The sun still shines somewhere. Let me finish this song." And he played on, while the child and the ant looked at each other and went back to work.

Soon the days grew shorter, and the leaves of the old tree turned golden and began to drift down. The child and the ant carried in the last sacks of grain and the last bright seeds. They set them on the shelves in tidy rows until the whole pantry smelled of warm bread and dry summer. The ant stood in the doorway and gave a satisfied sigh.

"Now we are ready," she said. The child thanked her for letting a helper join in, and she thanked the child back.

Then one morning, the garden woke up white. Snow dusted the twigs and the roofs of the mushrooms, and tiny snowflakes spun in the air. The child, wrapped up warm, came out to check on the pantry and heard a thin, quiet sound. It was a violin, playing very softly.

The grasshopper was standing outside the pantry door with his wings folded and his feet pale with cold. His song had slowed down to a shiver. "I thought I had more time," he said, without any pride at all.

The child did not lecture him. Winter had already taught him the lesson, and the child could see that. Instead, the child knocked gently, opened the little sheltered door, and let a stripe of golden lantern light fall across the snow.

"Please come in," said the child. "There is room."

The ant appeared with a small bowl of warm soup, which she set on a table by the lantern. "Sit down, grasshopper," she said. "A cold singer cannot play well, and a warm one can." The grasshopper stepped inside and sat so close to the glow that his wings began to shimmer again.

When he had finished the soup, he stood and placed a hand over his heart. "Thank you both," he said. "I enjoyed the summer, but I forgot about the winter. When spring comes, I promise I will help you collect food before I play a single note."

"And you will still play," said the ant, "because the long winter evenings are better with music." So the grasshopper tuned his tiny violin and played a gentle tune, and the pantry felt like the warmest place in the whole garden.

At last the snow melted. Crocuses poked up, then primroses, and the old tree wore a haze of fresh green. The ant opened her door and found the grasshopper already waiting, with a basket twice as big as his own back.

The child came running with the woven basket. The ant led, the child carried, and the grasshopper worked hard and cheerfully, humming a tune between trips. When they stopped to rest in the sun, he took out his violin and played, and the ant tapped one foot in time.

From then on, the garden had both: seeds for tomorrow and songs for today. The child, the ant and the grasshopper made sure of it together.