Little Harold sat in his room, playing with his toys, and thinking about everything, thinking about nothing, just thinking, thinking and playing, as the time rolled past. Suddenly, something came to pass in Harold's little head. It was not yet a thought, just a gentle germ, simply the subtlest seed. But it was something. And so, Harold thought about this something, this thought that was forming in his head. And then he knew -- he had an idea!!

This was an exciting moment, for just the moment before Harold had had no idea, and now he had an idea!! Oh, it was a little idea at first, a tiny little nothing of an idea, but oh, how he kept thinking upon it, thinking it over, thinking it through, and it grew, and grew!!

He nurtured it with his thoughts and reflections, expanding it in all sorts of directions, and soon it was.... a big idea, the sort he could retort with if someone asked, "what's the big idea?" And bigger and bigger it grew, this idea, it was big, it was large, it was huge, it was -- substantial!! So big was it, it would change everything, it would change the world, this stupendous, humongous big idea!! Why, with this idea, Harold would be--

"Haaaarry, dinner!!" he heard mother call out. Dinner? No, no time for dinner now, for his idea was growing and glowing and flowing and simply howling as if the winds were blowing it up, up, up. No dinner, he had to think!!

"I made your faaaavorite!!" Mother was most insistent now, "spaghetti and pizza, chocolate ice cream for desert!!"

Spaghetti!! Pizza!! Spaghetti and pizza!! And ice cream for desert!! And chocolate ice cream, at that!!

Now this was urgent. The big idea would have to wait its turn. Anyway, it had no particular place to go right then, so Harold decided to leave it right there. He would come back to pick it up later.






Harold was so stuffed, all that spaghetti, all that pizza, all that chocolate ice cream!! Back up to his room he came, and then he remembered, oh yes, he had been thinking of an idea, a big idea -- but where was it? He looked up and down and all around his room, but the idea was gone. It had left, without an inkling, without a clue as to what once grew and grew and grew.

Harold shrugged, for if no trace of it could be found, well it must not have been so big an idea after all. And before he could count his lucky stars, little Harold swooned off to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream big ideas in his dreams.



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