Momo was a mole who did everything quickly.
He walked quickly. He ate quickly. He even sneezed quickly.
“Ah—choo!”
Before anyone could say, “Are you all right?” Momo was already out the door.
One Monday morning, Momo planted six beans behind his house.
He covered each bean with soft soil. Then he made six little signs.
Each sign said:
PLEASE GROW QUICKLY.
Lulu the snail slid slowly past.
“Beans cannot read signs,” she said.
“Then I will read the signs to them,” said Momo.
He crouched beside the soil and called out:
“Please grow quickly! Please grow quickly! Please grow quickly!”
The soil did nothing.
On Tuesday, Momo brought out a large watering can.
“Perhaps they are thirsty.”
He gave the first bean one cup of water.
Then another.
Then one more.
Water dripped from the bottom of the pot. Soon there was a puddle on the path.
Lulu crawled past wearing a leaf as a rain hat.
“This is not a garden,” she said. “It is a bean swimming pool.”
Momo quickly put down the watering can.
On Wednesday, six green shoots finally poked through the soil.
They were thin and curved. Each one was only as tall as Momo’s paw.
Momo watched them for a moment.
“Too slow.”
He fetched a little ruler.
The first shoot was two centimeters tall.
The second was two centimeters tall.
The third was still two centimeters tall.
Momo marched around the pot three times.
“I will help.”
He held the top of the first shoot and gave it a tiny pull.
“Look! Taller already.”
He pulled the second shoot.
Then the third.
Soon all six shoots stood tall and straight.
Momo’s tail wiggled with pride.
“Lulu! Come quickly! My beans grew in one afternoon!”
Lulu slowly climbed onto the edge of the pot.
She looked at the shoots. Then she looked at the soil on Momo’s paws.
“Where are their feet?” she asked.
“Beans do not have feet.”
“Then what are those little white threads?”
Momo looked down.
Thin roots lay above the soil like messy white hair.
By evening, every shoot had bent over.
The first leaned on the second.
The second leaned on the third.
Soon all six shoots were tangled together. They looked like a plate of very tired green noodles.
Momo bent over too.
“I was only trying to help.”
Lulu did not say, “I told you so.”
She simply rested beside the pot.
“We can plant new ones,” she said.
Together, they tucked six new beans into the soil.
Momo wanted to make six new signs.
Lulu shook her head.
So they made only one:
TODAY: A LITTLE WATER.
The next morning, they added another line:
TODAY: A LITTLE SUN.
The morning after that, they added:
TODAY: DO NOT PULL ANYTHING.
Momo wrote that part himself.
Every morning, Momo hurried to the garden with his ruler.
Every morning, Lulu followed slowly behind.
Some days the shoots were a little taller.
Some days they did not seem taller at all.
Whenever that happened, Momo put both paws behind his back.
“Today, do not pull anything,” he reminded himself.
A few weeks later, bean vines curled around the little wooden frame.
Leaves opened one after another.
Long green pods hid underneath them, tapping softly together.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
That evening, Momo and Lulu sat beside the garden and shared the first sweet bean.
Momo ate slowly.
At least, he thought he ate slowly.
Lulu had taken one tiny bite when Momo finished his third bean.
“I am still practicing,” he said.
The vines swayed gently in the evening breeze.
This time, Momo kept both paws resting safely on his knees.