It was the perfect day for a picnic.
Molly even planned her own menu: cheese sandwich, boiled egg, chocolate milk, pickle ...
Molly pulled and twisted, but the pickle stayed locked in the jar.
Molly thought about her problem. She knew there was no picnic without a pickle. "Maybe I need
someone better suited to the task," she said.
someone better suited to the task," she said.
But more arms wasn't the answer.
"Maybe there's a trick to it," a dizzy Molly said. "I'll look for someone clever to help."
But when she found them, they couldn't agree on anything.
"Maybe I need someone powerful," Molly said.
But the loud roars just hurt her ears.
"Maybe I need someone with more experience, someone older," Molly said.
But it was the wrong kind of experience.
It seemed to Molly that everyone was enjoying picnics without any problems.
But she didn't see any pickles, and she felt sorry for them.
Her stomach rumbled now. But she had one more big idea.
"I'll try anything," she said.
But the pickles didn't respond to magic,
heights,
or music.
They wouldn't even come out for an audience.
Molly pouted.
The pickles floated in the jar.
Her stomach rumbled, longer than before.
"Maybe it's time to go home," she said.
Then she had a new idea, a small idea.
At home, she held the jar up to her mom.
And her mom opened it. Like magic, except magic hadn't worked.
And Molly and her mom
had the perfect picnic.
A closer look:
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