Of Wits and WITches

Okay, I’ve officially interred this story as Chapter One in “Bad Parenting 101’.

I will explain.

But first a little background...

Hansel and Grethel lived happily in the woods with their parents. A papa who made his living—what else?—cutting wood and a mama who stayed at home and made delicious things to eat and loved her family.

But, sadly, their sweet and gentle mama got sick and died.

A year or so later, their kind papa married again.

Their stepmother was not like the mama they had lost. Oh, she was a ‘sturdy’ individual. Strong and hard working. The house was clean and meals on time.

But she was not what you would call ‘affectionate’.

So Hansel and Grethel, though clean and well-fed, always went to their kind papa for snuggles and stories.

And were nearly as happy as before.

Then ‘hard times’ came.

And that's where our story starts...

As the countryside grew poorer, though everyone still needed firewood, no one could pay. Instead, they sent their sons (and a few daughters) into the woods to cut their own wood.

Thus the official woodcutter—though he was very good at his job—grew very poor indeed. And his family along with him.

Finally, they were looking at their last few crusts of bread.

Now remember when I said their stepmother wasn’t ‘affectionate’? Well, that comes into play here.

One night, after the children had been put to bed without their supper, the SM told her husband, “We are starving. But there will be more for me—and maybe you—if there are fewer mouths to feed.”

Who even thinks like that?!

I’m picturing the look on his face.

I know what my expression would be…

Moving on…

It takes—quite literally—all night, but the woman finally convinces him that they should take the children into the woods and abandon them there. 

I think he gave in just to shut her up.

What are your thoughts?

Now there was one little hiccup in her plan.

It was overheard.

By little ears.

Hansel, unable to sleep, heard every word. And that was a lot of words.

Being a clever boy, he crept out of the hut and gathered the white pebbles shining in the moonlight.

Who’s with me in thinking all would have been well if they’d just fed said pebbles to the SM? I mean...it worked with Red Riding Hood.

Just sayin'.

Sigh.

Back to my story…

The next day, the two parents announced—one brightly, one…erm…not—that they were going for a picnic in the woods.

Things rolled out as the SM had planned: long trek along almost-non-extant trails. Fire built. Children told to wait while parents ‘did something else’.

And, along about nightfall, the children realizing they had been abandoned in the woods.

But clever little Hansel had dropped pebbles beside the trail during their long walk from their hut and, when the moon rose, they were clearly visible.

The two littles easily found their way home by following them.

To their father’s joy.

And their SM’s…erm…not-joy.

But remember when I said this woman was ‘sturdy’. Well, she was also persistent.

Undeterred, the next day, she again enacted her plan.

Second time’s the charm, right?

This time, Hansel, unable to pick up pebbles because his SM had locked the door and was sleeping on the key, used bits of his piece of bread—oh, I forgot, each of the littles had pieces of bread for their ‘picnic—to make a trail home.

Yadda, yadda, yadda…abandoned.

This time, they were unable to find their way home because the birds in the woods had found and devoured their tasty little signposts.

Dratted birds.

The littles simply wandered around until they finally fell asleep.

The next morning, when they awoke, they saw, to their relief, a funny little cottage peeking out between the trees.

They hurried to it and discovered that it was made out of bread and cake and other yummy things. With spun sugar for the windows.

Okay, I don’t know about you, but if I was starving and came upon a little edible house, I’d be munching first and asking questions later.

Which is what they did.

Soon a little old lady came out—yes, someone lived in that little house.

I have one thing to say…rain.

Moving on…

She was quite hospitable at first.

But all that changed after the kids had eaten their fill and were fast asleep in soft beds, dreaming of little edible houses.

I have a question…How would one ‘clean’ such a place? I mean, I’ve tried to brush the dirt off of a piece of bread with little to no success.

And what would the dust-bunnies be? Cotton Candy? (Let me just say that this would the answer to all my childhood dreams.)

Back to our story…

While they slept, the old woman—actually a nasty, child devouring witch—carried poor, unsuspecting Hansel to her dungeon. With the intent to fatten him up and…you know…devour.

And Grethel was forced to do the feeding.

This went on for some time.

The meals were good.

And plentiful.

Which begs the whole question: if the witch had so much food to stuff into Hansel, why didn’t she just eat that? Why capture a child at all? Hmmm…?

Oh, well, if we’d wanted reality we’d simply watch the news.

Every day the witch would ask Hansel to stick a finger out of his cage so she could see how fat he was getting.

Subtle, she wasn’t.

He simply stuck out a bone from a past meal.

The witch, unable to see very well, accepted said bone at face value. So to speak.

And kept feeding him.

Finally, as he didn’t seem to be gaining weight, she ran out of patience.

Lighting the fire under the ‘big’ oven, she asked Grethel to check the heat.

But Grethel, though she doesn’t get much of the spotlight, was as clever as her brother. Standing back, she simply said, “Please show me how to do that?”

I have to tell you that I got away with something similar whenever my mom would ask me to any household chores.

True story.

Ahem...

The witch—hopelessly outmatched in this game of wits, showed Grethel how to climb into the oven to check it for heat.

At which time, Grethel simply…shut the door.

I know the witch's death was distinctly unpleasant, but, let’s face it…she was sort of asking for it.

Grethel wasted no time in freeing Hansel and the two of them—justifiably, I think—ransacked the house to see if there was anything worth taking.

And discovered chests of jewels, etc.

Which they lightened considerably into capacious pockets.

Then they skedaddled, finally finding their way home.

(Oh, there is a little side story about a kindly duck who sails them across a great pond, but we'll discuss that another time.)

Where their father, now a sad and broken—and single—man sat, grieving.

There are several opinions on what happened to his second wife. Some say she died. 

Some say she left because:

A. Even with the children gone, there wasn’t enough to eat.

Or B. She had to go find herself.

Or C. Let’s just face it…the ending is better without her…

The children and their father had a grand reunion and an almost-immediate trip to the grocery store because—a-fortune-in-jewels.

And the three of them lived satiated-ly ever after.

The End.