Not in Your Bowl

This story could’ve started simply—with the sharp sound of an alarm clock waking up one sleepy little boy…

But this morning was special.

As soon as the sun peeked through the apartment window, the boy opened his eyes, sat up in bed, and gave a big, bright smile. Then he quickly slid off the bed and ran to the window, as if wanting to check something. Peeking outside, he smiled even wider.

“Summer!” he whispered joyfully, almost clapping his hands.

He had been waiting for the first day of June with great anticipation. His parents had promised to spend the whole summer together at their country house. And everything there was magical: fragrant berries straight from the bush tasted better than any ice cream, and the white sand near the lake felt like silk—you could swim in both the water and the sand. Pure joy!

Even in winter, he and his dad had decided to build a treehouse.

The boy loved to invent and dream. Back then, he drew a picture of his dream house, and his dad turned that drawing into a real blueprint. That was easy for his dad—after all, he was an architect. An architect is someone who draws detailed designs of beautiful houses, so that builders know exactly how to build them.

“Rostik!” his mom called. “Come have breakfast! Then we’ll pack up and head out of the city!”

Yes, our little hero’s name is Rostik—that’s what his mom and dad lovingly call him. His full name is Rostislav, which he’ll probably go by when he grows up.

After breakfast, everyone got in the car, and within a couple of hours they arrived at their country home.

Rostik couldn’t wait to start building the treehouse, but his dad had other things to do first—unpacking the car, bringing in their things, and helping mom get settled.

To keep the boy from getting bored, they took him to visit their neighbor, Aunt Sveta. She’d been living there since spring, in what looked like a fairytale house.

She wasn’t technically family, but she was so kind and close to them that the fence between their yards was just for decoration. Eventually, they even built a gate in it, so they could visit each other without walking around to the street.

“Rostislav, look how much you’ve grown! You’re such a big boy now!” Aunt Sveta greeted him with a smile and open arms. “Come in, I’ll make you some mint tea and give you some treats. But I have guests,” she winked and led him inside.

“Mila, Rada, meet our guest! This is Rostik—my neighbor, but to me he’s like another nephew. So let’s get to know each other and have tea together. I’ll go boil some water.”

In the cozy living room, two girls were sitting at a round table covered with a pretty floral lace tablecloth. They were munching happily on poppy seed cookies.

Mila and Rada were Aunt Sveta’s nieces, but until recently they had lived far away in another country, so they had never visited her before. That’s why Rostik hadn’t met them.

He froze. He’d never seen kids visiting Aunt Sveta before—especially not two girls! He thought about leaving, but the smell of fresh cookies made him change his mind.

He loved Aunt Sveta’s cookies more than he feared meeting new people.

Taking a deep breath, Rostik stepped toward the table, sat on the edge of a chair, and started studying the flowers on the tablecloth.

But the sudden silence at the table made him feel uneasy. It felt like everything around him got heavy, his body shrank, and his tongue refused to move. He gathered all his courage, moved his tongue just enough to shout:

“Aunt Sveta, let me help you!”

And before anyone could say anything, he ran straight to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, Rostislav? Were you scared?”

“Yes! I mean—no! Or… I don’t know,” he gasped, glancing nervously toward the living room.

“Are you shy about talking to the girls?” she asked gently.

“What does ‘shy’ mean?”

“It’s when you don’t know what to say to strangers, and it makes you feel nervous, like you don’t belong.”

“Like I’m not in my bowl?” the boy asked, puzzled.

“Well, imagine you live in a bowl, and everything there is familiar. But then—bam!—you’re put in a different bowl. And everything feels off: the pattern is weird, it’s too slippery, and maybe even has a hole in it! It’s scary, and all you want is to run away.”

“Yeah, Aunt Sveta, that’s exactly how I felt. Before, when I visited you, the conversation just happened—you asked, I answered. But now the girls are quiet, and it feels like everything is pressing down on me. My tongue doesn’t work, and I don’t know what to say. I think I’d rather go,” he said sadly.

“Wait. I think I know what will help you,” Aunt Sveta said with a mysterious smile. Lowering her voice, she continued:

“Remember last summer, when you helped two boys in the sandbox who were fighting over toys? You gave them your buckets, shovels, and cars—and they stopped arguing.”

“Of course I remember. So what?” Rostik asked.

“Well, because of your kindness and generosity, they not only stopped fighting, but you became friends with them—even though you were too shy to talk to them before.”

“Right! That helped me back then. And… oh! I get it!” Rostik’s eyes lit up. “Kindness and generosity! I’ll be right back!”

He smiled proudly and ran home. Just a couple of minutes later, he returned to the table. The girls looked puzzled, and Aunt Sveta stood nearby, quietly observing with a warm smile.

“Here! Help yourselves!” Rostik said, holding out a basket of fruit they’d brought from the city.

“Thank you!” said Rada, smiling. “I love kiwi!”

“And I love little oranges,” Mila said shyly, eyes down. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Rostik felt light and happy again. He smiled and sat at the table without any fear, ready to enjoy tea and cookies.

This time, conversation came easily.

Rada told him she collects curious little treasures she finds everywhere and keeps an adventure journal where she writes down her strange and funny experiences.

Mila said she loves her pet cat Senya, the whole family’s favorite, and told stories about how she cares for and plays with him. She missed him a lot and wished she could’ve brought him with her. But she did bring flower seeds and couldn’t wait to plant them in Aunt Sveta’s garden.

After hearing the girls’ stories, Rostik realized that the three of them would have lots of fun together. He happily shared his plan to build a treehouse.

“Wow! When will you start?” Rada asked, excited.

“Dad promised it would be ready by my birthday,” Rostik said dreamily.

“When’s your birthday?” Mila asked.

“In two weeks. I’ll be six!” he said proudly.

“Oh! I’ll turn six in early fall,” Rada added.

“And I’m only four and a half…” Mila said, a little disappointed.

“What a great bunch you all are!” Aunt Sveta beamed. “I’m so happy you became friends! Rostislav, come visit us anytime!”

“Of course I will! And you can come to our place too. Want to help build the treehouse?” he asked the girls.

“Can we?!” Rada said, hardly believing it.

“Yes! We’ll start tomorrow!”

And just like that, they made plans to meet again the next day.

That night, as each of them lay in bed, they thought about how wonderful the day had been—and how tomorrow promised to be even better.

It looked like a very happy summer was ahead!