By Bill Conley
Moral of the Story:
Excuses stop us from growing—effort helps us move forward. Saying “I can’t”
often means “I won’t,” but choosing “I will” opens the door to possibility.
Success doesn’t begin with talent—it begins with trying. And when we replace
excuses with effort, we discover just how capable we truly are.
In the warm green heart of the
jungle, where vines danced and parrots chattered, lived a young elephant named
Eddie.
Eddie was big, strong, and
clever—but he had a tiny problem that caused big trouble.
He made excuses. Lots of them.
When Mama Elephant asked him to
clean his room, Eddie groaned, “I can’t. My trunk is sore.”
When Papa Elephant told him to help
with chores, Eddie sighed, “I can’t. I’m too tired.”
And when his little sister Ellie
needed help reaching the mango tree, Eddie looked away. “I can’t. I’m doing
something... really important.”
But the truth was—Eddie could.
He just wouldn’t.
Eddie didn’t realize it, but every
time he said “I can’t,” what he really meant was “I won’t.”
One sunny morning at school, Mrs.
Giraffe stood tall and proud.
“Next week,” she announced, “we will
have our Jungle Talent Show! Everyone will get a chance to share something
special.”
The classroom buzzed with
excitement.
The monkeys swung from branch to
branch, flipping and tumbling.
The parrots began to sing.
Even the shy turtles whispered about
doing a slow-motion dance.
But Eddie slumped in his seat.
“I can’t sing,” he muttered.
“I can’t juggle,” he whispered.
“I can’t do anything,” he sighed.
Mrs. Giraffe gently leaned down and
said, “Eddie, you can do something wonderful. But first, you must stop hiding
behind ‘I can’t.’”
That night at dinner, Mama Elephant
asked, “What are you going to do for the talent show?”
Eddie lowered his trunk. “I don’t
know,” he started.
But then he remembered what Mrs.
Giraffe said.
He took a deep breath. “I will find
something.”
Mama smiled. “That’s a good start.”
The next morning, Eddie walked
through the jungle, looking and listening. He passed the waterfall, the beehives,
and the giant fern trees. Then, near the edge of the watering hole, he noticed
something.
His own reflection stared back… and
below it, in the soft mud, were the swirly trunk drawings he had made the day
before—just for fun.
“That’s it!” he said.
Eddie raced home, gathered leaves,
berries, and jungle clay, and began to create. Each day, he woke up early and
practiced. No more “I can’t.” No more “Later.” No more “I’m tired.”
Instead, he said, “I will try.”
And he did.
He tried.
He practiced.
He got better.
He believed.
The day of the Jungle Talent Show
arrived, and animals gathered under the big banana tree stage. Butterflies
fluttered in Eddie’s stomach, but he stood tall.
When it was his turn, he dipped his
trunk into a bowl of berry paint, stepped up to a huge canvas, and began to
swirl.
Shapes appeared. Colors danced.
In just minutes, he painted the
jungle sky, the leafy trees, a troop of monkeys swinging, and a smiling
elephant family.
The crowd gasped.
Then they cheered.
Then they stood and clapped.
Eddie smiled widely.
Not because he won a prize.
Not because he was the best.
But because he tried.
Because he stopped saying “I can’t”
and started saying “I will.”
From that day forward, when Eddie
was tempted to make an excuse, he’d stop and say to himself:
“I will try.”
Even when he didn’t feel ready.
Even when something felt hard.
Even when no one else was watching.
Because trying was enough.
Trying was everything.
Moral Poem to End the Story:
“I can’t” is just a heavy wall
That keeps you from your dreams so tall.
Say “I will try,” and then begin—
You’ll be surprised by what’s within.
Conversation Starters for Parents
and Older Readers:
1.
What do
you think Eddie was really saying when he said, “I can’t”?
2.
Can you
think of a time you made an excuse instead of trying? What would happen if you
said “I will” instead?
3.
Why do you
think effort matters more than being perfect or the best?
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