Mei's grandpa, Gong Gong, gave her a seed.
It was small and brown and smooth, like a tiny stone sleeping in her palm.
"This one is special, Mei," Gong Gong said. "It will grow a surprise."
Mei got her little red pot. She filled it with dark, crumbly dirt. Scoop, scoop, scoop. With her littlest finger, she poked a hole. She tucked the seed inside, like putting a baby to bed.
Pitter-patter-pat. She gave it a little drink of water.
Then she put the pot on her sunny windowsill and waited.
The next morning, Mei jumped out of bed and ran to the window.
Nothing. Just brown dirt.
She put her face close to the pot. "Hello? Are you awake?"
The seed did not say hello back.
Mei tapped the side of the pot. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Time to grow," she said in her biggest voice.
But the seed did nothing. It was a very stubborn seed.
The next day, Mei gave it more water. Splish, sploosh. A little puddle formed on top.
Still nothing. Only wet, brown dirt.
Mei sighed. She tapped the pot again, a little harder this time. TAP. TAP. TAP. "I'm waiting!"
Day after day, the little red pot sat on the windowsill. The dirt was just dirt. The seed stayed hidden.
Mei huffed. A big, grumpy huff that puffed her cheeks out. She picked up the pot and stomped outside to the garden.
"This seed is too stubborn!" she told Gong Gong, who was pulling up weeds.
Gong Gong smiled. He looked at the little red pot.
He just said, "Hmm. Maybe it doesn't like the window. Maybe it wants to feel the big, real sun."
Mei put the pot down on the soft green grass. The sun felt warm on her hair. It felt warm on the little red pot, too. She sat down next to it, her chin in her hands.
A buzzy bee flew past her nose. Bzzzzzz.
A wiggly worm peeked out of the dirt nearby.
Mei forgot all about the stubborn seed. She watched a bright blue butterfly dance on a flower.
When she looked back at her pot, she gasped.
Sticking out of the middle of the brown dirt was something new.
It wasn't brown. It wasn't stubborn.
It was a tiny, tiny loop of bright green.
Mei leaned in so close her nose almost touched it.
Two little green leaves were stretching up, up, up toward the big, warm sun. The sleeping seed had woken up.
Gently, so gently, Mei touched one of the tiny leaves with her fingertip.
She didn't tap the pot anymore. She just smiled, and watched her little sprout grow.
