Theo and the Last Bucket

Theo was carrying the blue bucket across the garden, one slow step at a time, when the water slopped over his boots again.

"Splash," said Theo. "Oh dear."

It was the longest day of summer, and the sun had not gone to bed yet. It was still sitting on the fence, round and orange. Theo wanted to fill the little paddling pool before it did. Then he could sit in the water and watch the sun go down. He had never once stayed up that late.

The pool was nearly full. It needed one more bucket.

Theo tipped the bucket in. Glug, glug, glug. But the bucket never quite emptied. There was always one last inch of water sitting at the bottom. Everybody knew it did that. Grandpa said it had done that since before Theo was born.

"Tip it harder," said Grandpa from his chair, where he was shelling peas.

Theo tipped it harder. The last inch stayed.

He turned it upside down and gave it a shake. The last inch stayed.

"Hmm," said Theo.

The pool was still one bucket short, and the sun was sliding down the fence.

Then he noticed something. A small brown frog was sitting on the edge of the bucket, looking in. It was not there to help. It was there for a drink, and it plainly thought the last inch was a very nice puddle.

"That is for you?" asked Theo.

The frog blinked.

Theo thought. Then he laid the bucket down on its side, next to the pool, with its mouth pointing at the water. He gave it a gentle push, and a little push more.

The last inch slid out, slow and shining, like a silver tongue. It ran down into the pool. Plip.

The frog hopped in after it. Plop!

The pool was full.

Theo climbed in and sat down. The water was warm. The frog floated beside his knee. Grandpa popped a pea open, and the sun touched the fence, and the whole sky turned the colour of peaches.

"Still here," whispered Theo, and the sun stayed a little longer.