Winter was coming. Mother Pig called her three little ones: “Time to build your own houses, dears. And remember — build them strong!” The three brothers set off down the lane, bundles on their shoulders. The eldest dreamed of games, the middle one of naps. And the youngest? He was wondering how to make a house strong.
Big Brother piled up straw and had a house before noon — rustle-rustle, done! Middle Brother lashed thin bamboo into a stick house — tap-tap, finished! The two danced about and called, “Little Brother, come play!” The youngest smiled, hands covered in mud. “House first, play later.” Now tell me — which house would YOU build?
Under the burning sun the little pig kneaded mud and pressed brick after brick. One brick… two bricks… a hundred bricks! Sweat dripped from his brow. His brothers laughed: “Silly! Who works that hard?” Laying brick on brick, he said, “You'll see, brothers — when the storm comes.” In seven days the brick house stood: solid walls, a tall chimney.
One evening a wolf came out of the forest, eyes burning with hunger. He pawed at the straw-house door: “Little pig, little pig, open the door!” A trembling voice answered, “No, no, no! I won't!” The wolf grinned. “Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!” WHOOSH! The straw flew into the sky. Big Brother ran!
Big Brother tumbled panting into the stick house. But the wolf was right behind — “Open the door!” “No, no, no!” “Then I'll huff, and I'll puff!” C-R-ACK! The stick house came down too. The two brothers ran for their lives toward the little one's brick house — the wolf's hot breath right behind them!
Inside the brick house, the lantern glowed soft. The three brothers sat pressed together, hearts going thump-thump. Outside the wolf huffed and puffed — once, twice, ten times! But the brick walls didn't move. Not one bit. “It won't break, will it?” whispered Big Brother. “No, brother,” said the little one calmly. “I made every one of these bricks with my own hands.”
Near dawn the wolf crept onto the roof. “Heh! I'll climb down the chimney!” But the little pig had already set a huge pot of water bubbling on the stove. Down went the wolf — YEOWCH! — hot water on his tail! He shot back up through the chimney and raced for the forest, smoke trailing from his tail. He never, ever came back.
Then, all winter long, the three brothers built two more brick houses together. The straw house and the stick house? Gone with the wind — they never came back. Now the two big brothers sing as they knead the clay: “One brick… two bricks… a strong house!” The little one just smiles. A house built with sweat can't be blown down.