The morning was warm, and Steve stood proudly by the edge of the river.
"I threw my stone all the way across!" he boasted to Kynthos. "I am the strongest and fastest boy in the village. No one can push me down!"
Grandfather, hearing this, walked over. But before he could speak, Steve pointed at the tallest reed.
Steve was pointing at the one reed that stood much taller than the rest. Thicker and more rigid.
It refused to sway in the breeze.
"I am like that one!" Steve declared, puffing out his chest. "Standing taller than all the others!"
Suddenly, a violent gust of wind swept down the riverbank.
The shorter, flexible green reeds bent low to the ground, letting the wind pass right over them. But the tall, stiff reed refused to bend. With a sharp crack, it snapped into pieces that fell into the mud.
Steve stared quietly at the broken pieces of the reed. He wasn't puffing out his chest anymore.
"The one who refuses to bend is the first to break," Grandfather said gently.
"Humility is not weakness, my boy."
"It is the flexibility that keeps you whole when the storms of life arrive."
