
When I was 2 or 3 years old, my mother took me on trips to the library almost every week. While she checked out the latest mystery novels, I always went to the same shelf in the children’s section and pulled down the same worn, tea-colored book called “I Can’t, Said the Ant.” I must have made my mom check that book out 50 times. I had every word memorized, every illustration emblazoned on my brain, and every character befriended in my daydreams.
In case you missed out on this epic, the basic plot is that a teapot falls off the counter and breaks its spout, and if it isn’t put back up, it will die some horrible teapot death. All of the denizens of the kitchen—from the dinner bell to the pie to the pot—beg the (oddly, single) ant in the kitchen to get the teapot back to the counter and repair the broken spout.
Much rhyming ensues (“I can’t bear it, said the carrot” is one that still sticks with me), and ultimately, the ant, who initially, as you might guess from the title, doesn’t see how he can manage it, rounds up a work crew of insects and rescues the unlucky teapot from the floor.
Yes, this is going somewhere.
To this day, dozens of years later, I still think about that ant and his creative solutions to an impossible task when I think about the people I meet for whom “I can’t” is the final answer and the much smaller group of people I meet for whom “I can’t” is just t ... Read More…