There was once a little girl named Hattie who questioned everything her mother told her. She’d play with her long golden curls and answer, “Why, mother? Why can’t I?” and her mother, leaning down to look her straight in her big green eyes, would always reply, “Because I want to keep you safe.”

One evening, Hattie and her mother were in the busy marketplace when Hattie wandered off. “Hattie,” her mother scolded, “You should never go off by yourself.”

The little girl took hold of the end of her hair and tugged and twisted it. “Why, Mother?” she asked, “Why can’t I go off by myself?”

Her mother rested her basket full of fresh vegetables on the ground, leaning down to look in her eyes, “Because I want to keep you safe.”

“Mother,” she sighed, “You never let me do anything I want.” Her mother proceeded to pick up the basket and walk home and Hattie reluctantly followed her. “You always say ‘You should never climb trees! You should never eat things off plants you don’t know! You should never disturb bee hives! You should never enter a stranger’s house! You should never go off by yourself!’ I want to explore but you make me stay with you and do dreary chores all day. Why can’t I go on an adventure?”

“Listen to me, Hattie,” she replied, “I always know what’s best for you.”

But, Hattie had already made up her mind to leave the house before nightfall and go on the adventure she always dreamed of. When they arrived at their cottage, Hattie’s mother told her to go out back to the tub to wash and get ready for bed.

When Hattie rounded the corner of the house, she looked beyond the tub at the great forest that stood on the edge of her village. The tall trees seemed to lean towards her, inviting her inside; her feet moved, as if they had a mind of their own. “It’s only for a few minutes,” Hattie said, “I’ll be back before bed time.” So, she walked down the sloping ground at the back of her cottage, jumped the small creek, and melted into the foliage of the forest.