下面这篇文章摘自剑桥大学出版社出版发行的Short Stories for Creative Language Classroom,文章生词较多，但别有趣味，请同学们用“心”欣赏。
For years，the children whimpered and tugged，“Tell us，tell us．”
You promised to tell the children some other time， later，when they were old enough．
Now the children stand eye to eye with you and show you their teeth，“Tell us．”
“Tell you what？”you ask，ingenuous．
“Tell us The Important Things．”
You tell your children there are six continents and five oceans，or vice versa．
You tell your children to be true to themselves．They say they are true to themselves．You tell them they're lying，you always know when they're lying．They tell you're crazy．You tell them to mind their manners．They think you mean it as a joke；they laugh．
There are tears in your eyes．You tell the children the dawn will follow the dark，the tide will come in，the grass will be renewed，every dog will have its day．You tell them the story of The Littlest Soldier whose rightarm，which he sacrificed while fighting for a noble cause，GREw back again．
You say thatifthere were no Evilwe wouldn'thave the satisfaction of choosing The Good．And if there were no pain，you say，we'd never know our GREatest joy，relief from pain．
You offer to bake a cake for the children，a fudge cake with chocolate frosting，their favorite．
“Tell us，”say the children．
You say to your children，“I am going to die．”
“When？”
“Someday．”
“Oh．”
You tell your children that they，too，are going to die．They already knew it．
You can't think of anything else to tell the children．You say you're sorry．You are sorry．Butthe children have had enough of your excuses．
“A promise is a promise，”say the children．
They'll give you one more chance to tell them of your own accord．If you don't，they'll have to resort to torture．
