The King, the Turnip, and the Lesson That Got Away

A King teaches his kids a royal lesson..

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The King, the turnip, and the lesson that got away.
You'd think being a king means I spend my days
lounging on golden thrones, eating grapes, and making royal decrees
like everyone gets an extra holiday. Wrong. Most of my
time is spent trying to keep my three children from
turning the castle into a circus. I'm King Reginald the Wise,

(00:23):
or so they call me. But when your kids think
wisdom is just a fancy word for boring, you have
to get creative, which is why I decided to teach
them an important life lesson last week. Spoiler, it did
not go as planned. The trouble began when I overheard
my eldest Prince Alfred, boasting to his siblings. I'll be
king one day, he said, puffing out his chest. I

(00:46):
don't need to learn anything. I'm already smarter than father. Naturally,
I couldn't let that slide. Smarter than me, eh, I said,
stepping into the room. They all froze like I'd caught
them sneaking cookies. Well, my dear children, if you are
so clever, let's see you solve a royal dilemma. I

(01:07):
sent a servant to fetch three identical turnips from the
royal garden. Don't ask why we had turnips. They're surprisingly versatile.
I handed one to each child and said, your task
is to take this humble turnip and turn it into
something extraordinary. You have one week. The winner will earn
a special prize. What kind of prize, asked Beatrice, my

(01:30):
second born and the sharpest of the bunch. Wisdom, I
replied mysteriously. They groaned in unison. The kids went off
in different directions, and I settled into my throne, confident
that my brilliant plan would teach them the value of creativity, resourcefulness,
and maybe even humility. But by day too, I started

(01:53):
hearing rumors. Alfred Bless, his over confident heart, had decided
to hire the best artisans in the kingdom to carve
his turnip into a golden sculpture. It'll be a masterpiece,
he told the court painter. Father will be so impressed. Meanwhile,

(02:14):
Beatrice had taken a more scientific approach. She was conducting
strange experiments in the castle's alchemy lab, mumbling things like,
if I can distill the essence of turnip, I might
invent a new medicine. And my youngest Leo. He was
wandering around the castle courtyard with his turnip on a leash,
calling it Sir Turnip the Brave. The week flew by,

(02:38):
and soon it was time for the grand presentation. I
sat on my throne trying not to laugh as the
children entered the hall with their creations. First up was Alfred.
He unveiled a dazzling, life sized sculpture of me, carved
from his turnip and covered in gold leaf. Behold, he

(03:00):
declared the turnip king. Impressive, I said, though it looked
more like a melted candle than me. Next was Beatrice.
She presented a tiny vial of green liquid. I've transformed
the turnip into a potent elixir, she announced. This potion
can cure the common cold or give you mild indigestion.

(03:23):
The science is still unclear. Finally, Leo stepped forward, holding
his turnip, now sporting a tiny crown and a cape.
This is sir Turnip, he said solemnly. We've been on
many adventures together. He's a good boy. I bit my
lip to keep from laughing. Very well, let's discuss the results.

(03:45):
I stood preparing to deliver my grand fatherly wisdom. Children,
I began. This challenge wasn't about the turnip. It was
about showing me your values. Alfred, you relied on others
to do the work for you. Beatrice, you sought knowledge
and innovation, and Leo, I paused, looking at my youngest

(04:07):
You made a friend. Leo beamed, and so I continued.
The lesson is that wisdom comes in many forms, and
father Alfred interrupted, who won well technically? Before I could finish,
Sir Turnip slipped out of Leo's hands and rolled across

(04:27):
the hall. Beatrice shrieked, Alfred tried to grab it, tripped
on his golden sculpture and knocked over Beatrice's potion. The
vial shattered, releasing a plume of green smoke that smelled
like burning cabbage. Chaos erupted. Servants rushed in, waving their

(04:48):
arms and coughing. Sir Turnip rolled under the throne, and
Leo dove after it, shouting, Sir Turnip no. By the
time the smoke cleared, the hall was a disaster. Alfred
was covered in gold dust, Beatrice was furiously scribbling notes
about the unintended side effects of her potion, and Leo

(05:08):
sat proudly holding Sir Turnip. Who had somehow acquired a
small charred flag. Well, I said, surveying the chaos, I
think the real lesson here is never underestimate a turnip.
They groaned again, but I could tell they'd had fun
and maybe, just maybe they learned something. As for me,

(05:34):
I'm considering a new royal decree, no turnips allowed in
the castle.