How Toník the Tortoise Stopped Liking Green Lettuce

At the edge of a quiet meadow, beside an old hazel bush, lived a little tortoise named Toník. He had a round, shiny shell with golden-brown spots, slow little legs, and he loved peaceful mornings very much.

Every morning, Toník woke up, stretched out his neck, blinked at the sunshine, and made his way to his bowl. Green lettuce was waiting for him in the bowl.

“Green lettuce,” sighed the little tortoise. “Green lettuce again.”

Toník used to love lettuce. When he was little, it had seemed as fresh to him as a drop of dew. But now he got it almost all the time. A leaf here, a leaf there, leaves in the morning and in the evening. And one day, he stopped liking green lettuce altogether.

“I don’t want even one bite,” he said, and tucked his head into his shell.

Just then, Bětka the squirrel came pattering by with a hazelnut in her paws.

“What is troubling you, Toník?” she asked.

“Lettuce,” the tortoise answered sadly. “It is green, crunchy, and smells like the garden. But I don’t want it anymore.”

Bětka sat down beside him. “Maybe you shouldn’t have only lettuce. After all, lots of different tasty things grow in the garden.”

“Really?” Toník peeked out carefully.

“Really. Come and see. Nice and slowly, just the way you like it.”

And so they set off together for the little garden beyond the stream. Bětka ran in only tiny steps so she would not get too far ahead of Toník, and Toník walked happily at his tortoise pace.

First, they found a bed of carrots. Their green tops swayed gently in the wind.

“Carrots are orange like the sunset,” said Bětka. “They help your eyes see well, for example when you are finding your way home at dusk.”

Míša the hare was munching on a carrot nearby.

“And they are sweet,” he added with his mouth full. “Just look.”

Toník tasted a thin slice of carrot. It crunched in his little mouth and tasted mild and sweet.

“Hmm,” he said in surprise. “That is not bad at all.”

Then they came to some red little tomatoes. They hung from their stems like tiny shiny lamps.

“Tomatoes help the body stay lively and strong,” Bětka explained. “And when it is warm, their flesh and juice refresh you pleasantly.”

Toník was given a small piece of ripe tomato. It was soft, fragrant, and juicy.

“It is red like a ladybird,” he smiled.

Behind the tomatoes grew cucumbers. Long, green, and cool.

“They are full of water,” said Pepík the hedgehog, who had come to have a look. “When you play in the sunshine, they help your body feel good.”

Toník tasted a slice of cucumber. It was as fresh as morning dew.

“Vegetables do not have to taste the same every time,” he said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Bětka nodded. “Every color brings something good. Green leaves, orange carrots, red tomatoes, purple cabbage, and yellow peppers. When you eat different kinds of vegetables, your little body gets many tiny helpers.”

“What kind of helpers?” Toník asked.

Bětka smiled. “The kind that help little legs walk, eyes look, tummies work, and the whole body grow. You cannot see them, but they are very clever.”

For a moment, Toník looked at the colorful garden. Leaves rustled all around, bees buzzed, and the sun was just warm enough.

“And what if I don’t want vegetables?” he asked quietly.

“You do not have to eat everything all at once,” Bětka said kindly. “It is enough to try small pieces. One day you may like cucumber, another day carrot. And perhaps in a few days, you will feel like lettuce again too.”

Toník liked that idea. He did not have to be brave enough for a whole plate. He only needed to be brave enough for one small bite.

The squirrel, the hare, and the hedgehog prepared a little colorful feast for Toník. They gave him two lettuce leaves, a piece of carrot, a slice of cucumber, a small piece of tomato, and a tiny strip of yellow pepper.

Toník ate slowly. First the carrot. Then the cucumber. Then the tomato. And at last, he looked at the green lettuce.

“You are not alone anymore,” he said to it quietly.

He took a small bite from the leaf.

The lettuce still tasted green and fresh. But beside all the other colors, it did not seem so boring anymore. Toník even smiled a little.

From that day on, the little tortoise was given colorful vegetables to eat. Sometimes lettuce with cucumber, other times carrot with a piece of pepper. And whenever he did not feel like tasting something, it was enough to say, “Today, just a tiny piece.”

After a few days, Toník noticed that it felt good to walk to the stream, that he felt like exploring the meadow, and that in the evening he became pleasantly tired. His little legs were happy, his eyes were alert, and his tummy was calm.

One evening, he sat in front of his little home beside the hazel bush. The sky was pink, and the first star had just lit up.

Bětka snuggled close to him.

“So, Toník?” she whispered. “Do you like green lettuce again?”

Toník smiled and took a bite of a small leaf from his bowl.

“Yes,” he said. “But I like it best when it has friends of every color around it.”

Then the little tortoise tucked himself into his warm shell, thanked the little garden for its tasty gifts, and closed his eyes. Outside, the leaves rustled, the stream murmured softly, and the whole meadow was falling asleep.

Toník knew that morning would bring a new day, new sunshine, and perhaps a new little bite that would be worth tasting.

And with that peaceful thought, he slept soundly until morning.