Sonny the Little Fist
Once upon a time, there lived an old man and an old woman. They had a son, but he was so tiny that you couldn’t even see him under a hat. He was no bigger than a fist. So they called him “Sonny the Size of a Fist.”One day, the old man went to plow the field and told the old woman to prepare lunch and bring it to him in the field.
The old woman prepared the meal and said to her son:
“If only you were bigger, you could take lunch to your father. But now I have to go myself.”
But Sonny got brave and said:
“Let me take the lunch, Mom.”
“How could you carry it?” the mother didn’t believe him.
“I’ll manage!”
So Sonny the Size of a Fist took the lunch, placed it in his father’s bast shoe, sat down behind it, and off he went.
He rode along, singing little songs. When he reached the field, he called out to his father:
“Dad, I’ve brought you lunch!”
The father saw him and was delighted:
“Well done, son!”
He sat down to eat, and the son said:
“Dad, put me on the plow. I’ll plow the field.”
“How will you plow?”
“You’ll see,” said the son. The father placed him on the plow. Sonny the Size of a Fist took the reins and shouted at the horse:
“Giddy up, Gray-Brown!”
And he started plowing.
A nobleman was passing by in his carriage. He saw this wonder and said:
“Sell me your plowman, old man.”
“No, sir, I won’t sell him. He’s my son.”
But the nobleman insisted, like sticky tar: sell him, sell him!
“I’ll give you a lot of money,” he said.
Sonny heard this, ran up to his father, and whispered:
“Sell me, Dad, but ask for a handful of gold from the nobleman. Don’t worry, I’ll escape from him.”
The old man agreed and sold his son to the nobleman for a handful of gold.
The nobleman took the boy, put him in his pocket, and rode off. “Now,” he thought, “I’ve got a fine plowman. No one else has one like him. All the nobles will envy me!”
Meanwhile, the boy tore a hole in the nobleman’s pocket, slipped out quietly, and jumped out of the carriage. The nobleman didn’t even notice. He rode home to boast about his marvelous plowman.
The boy looked around and saw a dense forest all around him. He wandered and wandered through the forest and got lost.
Then evening fell. He sat under a fir tree and cried.
Out of nowhere, a hungry wolf appeared. It grabbed the boy and swallowed him whole. The boy came to his senses, started kicking inside the wolf’s belly, and shouted:
“Hey, wolf, take me home!”
“I won’t!” said the wolf.
“You will if I annoy you enough.”
“We’ll see,” growled the wolf and ran off to the field to look for sheep.
He approached a flock of sheep, and the boy shouted from inside the wolf’s belly:
“Hey, shepherds, a wolf is sneaking up on your sheep!”
The shepherds heard this, chased the thief away, and even set the dogs on him.
The wolf ran back to the forest and said to the boy:
“Get out of here!”
“No, I won’t!” the boy replied. “Take me home.”
“I won’t!” the wolf snapped.
The wolf grew hungry again and went looking for food. But wherever he went, he had no luck—the boy wouldn’t let him rest.
The wolf grew so thin he could barely drag his feet.
But the boy stood his ground:
“Take me home!”
The wolf saw there was no way out—he carried the boy home.
He brought him to the yard and said:
“Get out. There’s your house.”
“No,” said the boy, “take me to the courtyard.”
The wolf carried him to the courtyard and shouted again:
“Get out!”
“No, take me to the porch.”
The wolf carried him to the porch.
Then the boy jumped out and shouted:
“Dad, Dad, come beat the wolf!”
The father ran out with a poker and killed the wolf. He skinned it and made a fur coat for the old woman, and she roasted a goose for the old man and their son.
And that’s the whole tale.
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