Listen to “The Egg That Wouldn’t Hatch” on Spreaker.
On the morning of the Easter Egg Festival, the town square was filled with color.
Bright banners fluttered in the breeze. Baskets lined the grass. Children laughed as they searched for sparkling eggs hidden behind trees, under benches, and beside flower beds.
Emily held her woven basket tightly. This was her favorite day of the year.
“Ready?” her dad asked with a smile.
“Ready!” she said, and off she ran.
She found blue eggs and pink eggs. She found striped eggs and polka-dotted eggs. Some shimmered like sunshine. Some glittered like tiny stars.
Soon, her basket was almost full.
That’s when she saw it.
Near the old oak tree, resting quietly in the grass, sat a plain white egg.
It wasn’t shiny.
It didn’t sparkle.
It didn’t even have a ribbon.
It just sat there.
Emily walked closer. “Why would anyone leave this one?” she wondered.
Other children ran past it without even looking.
“It’s probably empty,” one boy said.
“Or broken,” another guessed.
Emily knelt down and gently picked it up. It felt warm.
That was strange.
Eggs left in the grass shouldn’t feel warm.
She held it up to the sunlight. Nothing moved inside. No cracks. No sounds.
Still… it felt different.
“I’ll take you,” she whispered, placing the plain egg carefully into her basket.
Back at home, Emily lined up her colorful eggs on the kitchen table.
Her mom smiled. “You found so many!”
Emily nodded — but her eyes were on the white egg.
She tapped it lightly.
Nothing.
She shook it gently.
Still nothing.
That night, as the house grew quiet and moonlight stretched across her bedroom floor, Emily couldn’t sleep.
She kept thinking about the plain egg.
Slowly, she slipped out of bed and carried the egg to her desk. The moonlight made it glow softly.
“Why won’t you hatch?” she whispered.
The egg gave the tiniest wobble.
Emily froze.
Then — a small crack appeared across the shell.
Crick.
Another crack.
Crack.
The shell split open, and instead of candy or a toy, a tiny golden note fluttered out like a leaf.
Emily carefully picked it up and unfolded it.
It read:
The most special eggs are not the brightest ones. They are the ones that are chosen with kindness.
Emily blinked.
As she looked back at the shell, something even more surprising happened.
A tiny sprout pushed up from inside the broken egg.
Not a chick.
Not candy.
A plant.
Its small green leaves shimmered in the moonlight.
Emily’s eyes widened. “You’re… a seed?”
The sprout swayed gently, as if nodding.
The next morning, Emily showed her parents.
Her mom read the note softly. “Chosen with kindness.”
Her dad smiled. “I think that egg was waiting for someone who would see it.”
They planted the tiny sprout in the backyard under the warm spring sun.
Days passed.
The sprout grew taller.
Leaves spread wide.
Soon, small white flowers bloomed on its branches.
And one morning, something amazing appeared.
Hanging from the branches were tiny eggs — not plain ones, but soft pastel eggs glowing faintly in the sunlight.
Emily gasped. “It’s an Easter tree!”
Her mom laughed. “I think your kindness helped it grow.”
That afternoon, Emily invited the neighborhood children over.
She carefully handed each child one of the glowing eggs from her tree.
Inside each egg was a small note.
You are special.
Kindness grows.
Thank you for being you.
The children smiled. Even the boy who had called the plain egg empty looked thoughtful.
From that year on, the Easter Egg Festival always included one plain white egg hidden somewhere in the grass.
Most children rushed past it.
But every year, one child stopped.
One child noticed.
One child chose it.
And somewhere nearby, a new sprout began to grow.
The End.
🌷 Follow-Up Questions
- Why did the other children ignore the plain white egg?
- What was inside the egg when it finally cracked open?
- What lesson did Emily learn about kindness?
