By Bill Conley
Moral of the Story:
Learning to take turns is one of the kindest ways to show respect to others.
Whether you're waiting to speak, standing in line, or playing a game, sharing
time and space helps everyone feel included and valued. When we rush ahead or
push in, it makes others feel small—but when we wait with patience and grace,
we build trust and friendship. Taking turns isn't just about fairness—it's
about being thoughtful, gracious, and showing others that they matter too.
In the warm sands of Sandwhisker
Dunes, a cheerful little meerkat named Milo lived in a busy burrow with dozens
of brothers, sisters, cousins, and friends.
Milo was quick, clever, and always
full of energy—but he had one problem.
He didn’t like waiting.
If there was a line for something,
Milo would wiggle to the front.
If someone was talking, Milo would talk louder.
If a game was being played, Milo would grab the ball before it was his turn.
“Why wait?” he’d say with a grin.
“I’m ready now!”
The other meerkats didn’t always say
anything, but their ears drooped when Milo pushed in. Their tails curled up
with frustration. And slowly, fewer and fewer friends invited Milo to play.
One bright morning, the meerkats
gathered for a game of “Tunnel Tag,” a favorite in the dunes.
“We’ll go in order of age,” said
Marnie the Matriarch, who had the softest fur and the wisest eyes.
Milo was one of the youngest.
“But I want to go first!” he
shouted, bouncing in the sand.
Marnie shook her head gently.
“Everyone gets a turn, Milo. Patience is part of playing.”
Milo pouted, then waited… for about
ten seconds.
Then, when no one was looking, he
darted through the tunnel anyway.
“HEY!” cried Max, who had been next
in line.
“Milo cut!” shouted Tessa.
Marnie stepped forward. “Milo, you
must wait your turn, or you cannot play.”
“But I was just too excited!” Milo
said.
“Excitement is okay,” Marnie said.
“Pushing ahead is not. It's unkind.”
Milo sat down, his whiskers twitching.
He watched the others play while he waited on the edge.
Later, they all lined up for juicy
grubs—treats from a morning hunt.
As usual, Milo weaved through the
line.
“Grubs! Gimme!” he cried, snatching
the biggest one.
Lulu, who had been next, looked down
sadly. “That one was mine.”
Milo paused. Again, he hadn’t meant
to be mean. He was just eager. But it felt mean.
That afternoon, Milo wandered off
and sat under the shadow of a tall cactus.
Miss Willow, the oldest meerkat of
them all, sat nearby, humming quietly.
“Why so still, little Milo?” she
asked.
Milo kicked at the sand. “I’m always
in trouble. I just don’t like waiting.”
Miss Willow chuckled. “None of us
do, dear. But waiting your turn is a way of saying, ‘I see you. I respect you.
You matter.’”
Milo looked up. “It is?”
She nodded. “When we rush, we say
‘Me first.’ But when we wait, we say ‘Us together.’ Which one do you think
builds better friendships?”
Milo thought hard. “Us together?”
Miss Willow smiled. “Now that’s the
heart of a good friend.”
The next day, the meerkats gathered
for story time with Grandpa Gus.
Milo took a deep breath and went to
the back of the line.
Max looked surprised. “You're not
cutting?”
Milo shook his head. “Nope. I’ll
wait.”
Then, when they played “Sand Slide,”
Milo waited for his name to be called.
And when it was his turn to talk in
the burrow chat, Milo raised his paw and said, “Excuse me, may I share
something?”
Everyone turned. Milo had never
waited before.
Lulu beamed. “That was so kind,
Milo.”
By the end of the day, something
magical had happened.
Milo felt… calmer. Happier. Included.
Not because he went first, but
because he showed kindness.
He discovered that waiting his turn
didn’t make him smaller—it made the group stronger.
And from that day on, Milo led by
example—not by racing ahead, but by waiting with patience and grace.
Moral Poem to End the Story:
To wait your turn is kind and fair,
It shows you know and truly care.
When others speak or stand in line,
Respect and patience make hearts shine.
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