Something Heartfelt This Way Comes Exploring Big Emotions Through Story
Something Wonderful This Way Comes
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Blog 5: Something Heartfelt This Way Comes
Exploring Big Emotions Through Story
By Sophia Salazar, Editor-in-Chief
There is a curious thing about feelings.
They arrive without asking. They linger without permission. They shift and swirl and sometimes settle in places we didn't know they could reach. And yet, for all their power, they can be terribly difficult to talk about—especially for children, and especially for the adults who love them.
How do you explain what it feels like to be homesick? To be hopeful? To be brave when bravery feels impossible? To carry a small, quiet longing for years and years, like Crumpet Noggin waiting for his wealthy merchant? To run away from love and find yourself on an island, alone except for a goat, writing letters to someone who may never read them?
Stories, it turns out, know the way.
Stories give us language for feelings we couldn't otherwise name. They show us characters feeling things we recognize, facing things we fear, hoping for things we also hope for. They create a safe distance—it's not me feeling this, it's Oliver, it's Crumpet, it's Percival—while somehow bringing the feeling closer than ever.
This week, we're exploring the emotional landscapes of our stories. Not as lessons to be taught, but as invitations to feel together.
The Feelings Hidden in Whimsy
It would be easy to read Joules Young's stories and see only the whimsy. The flying watches. The yodelling birds. The waffles waging war. The aristocratic Englishman arguing with a goat. And yes, those things are there, and they're delightful.
But underneath the whimsy, something else is happening.
In "The Remarkable Evening of Oliver Hefflewhistle and the Gingham Glimmergit," a boy walks through the cold to sing to a girl he loves. He doesn't know if she'll notice. He doesn't know if his song will land. He doesn't even know if his fingers will work through his hand-knitted mittens. But he goes anyway. This is courage. This is hope. This is the vulnerability of offering something genuine and waiting to see what floats down from the window.
In "Old Crumpet Noggin and the Singing Flummywisters," a man sits outside a shop day after day, year after year, playing an invisible violin and waiting for a wealthy merchant to fill his bucket with gold. Twenty-five years he waits. Twenty-five years of hope, of patience, of not giving up. And then, when he least expects it—after he's heroically defended his bucket with a tin of baked beans—the merchant arrives. This is persistence rewarded. This is the strange timing of dreams.
In "Oh, the Roaming Fairy Folks of Mischief," Noddy and Poppy cause chaos wherever they go. But they also help. They rescue a man from tar and feathers. They give five jack-rabbits a home. They entertain a town with their absurd spectacle. Underneath the mayhem is intention: they mean well. They want to make things better. They just have a peculiar way of showing it. This is the complexity of good intentions. This is what it means to try.
In "The War of the Whiffle Waffles," Fizzwick and Toddy lose everything. Their bakery. Their town. Their peaceful life in Marmalade Junction. They flee in a creaking plane called "The Flying Scone" and eventually find their way to a quiet farm they name "Brimblebutton's Rest." They don't give up. They start over. They build something new. This is resilience. This is finding home when home has been taken.
And in "Percival: Lost in Paradise," a hapless English gentleman runs away from love when his beloved Emily Fairbourne's father expresses his opposition with a firearm. He finds himself on a sun-drenched Caribbean island, accompanied by a goat who also needed a friend, writing letters to Emily "whose memory steadies every unsteady step." This is heartbreak. This is longing. This is the strange, slow process of making a life when the life you planned is gone.
The whimsy is the wrapper. The feelings are the gift inside.
Talking About Feelings: A Guide for Grown-Ups
Before we dive into activities, let's talk about the grown-up part of this.
Many adults find it difficult to discuss emotions with children. We want to fix things. We want to make it better. We want to say the right words and have everything be okay. But feelings don't work that way. They need to be felt, not fixed. They need to be acknowledged, not argued away.
Stories help because they create a shared language. Instead of saying, "Tell me how you're feeling," you can say, "Remember how Oliver felt when he was walking through the cold, not knowing if Sally would notice him? Have you ever felt like that?"
Instead of asking, "Are you worried about something?" you can say, "Crumpet waited twenty-five years for his merchant. That's such a long time to hope. What's something you've waited a long time for?"
Instead of probing, "Why are you sad?" you can say, "Percival had to leave someone he loved. He writes her letters even though he may never see her again. Have you ever missed someone like that?"
The story does the reaching. The child does the connecting. You just provide the space.
Activity One: The Feeling Map (For All Ages)
This activity works for individuals, families, and classrooms.
You'll need:
Paper
Colored pencils, markers, or crayons
A quiet space
The Setup:
After reading or listening to one of the stories, invite everyone to create a "feeling map" of the tale. This isn't a map of places—it's a map of emotions.
How it works:
In the center of the paper, draw a small symbol for the main character. (Oliver's mittens. Crumpet's bucket. Noddy and Poppy's jack-rabbits. Fizzwick and Toddy's pie. Percival's goat.)
As you think through the story, add "feeling stations" around the character. Each station is a moment in the story where the character felt something strongly.
For each station, choose a color that matches the feeling. (Warm colors for courage and hope. Cool colors for sadness or fear. Bright colors for joy. Muddled colors for confusion.)
Draw lines connecting the stations, showing how the character moved from one feeling to another.
Add small drawings or words to capture each moment.
For Oliver, the map might include:
A cold blue patch for the walk through the frost
A warm golden spot for the moment he decides to play anyway
A hopeful green for the feather floating down
A peaceful lavender for the walk home, looking at the stars
For Crumpet, the map might include:
A patient gray for the twenty-five years of waiting
A bright orange for the moment he chases the thief with a tin of beans
A glittering gold for the merchant's arrival
A contented brown for the end of the day, walking home with fifty sovereigns
For Noddy and Poppy, the map might include:
A chaotic purple for the tar-and-feathers rescue
A delighted pink for the jack-rabbits' somersaults
An astonished blue when the skyscraper flies away
A satisfied yellow as they walk off singing
For Fizzwick and Toddy, the map might include:
A peaceful green for their bakery in Marmalade Junction
A panicked red when the Whiffle Waffles attack
A sad gray as they flee in "The Flying Scone"
A warm orange as they settle into Brimblebutton's Rest
For Percival, the map might include:
A deep blue for the moment he had to flee from Emily's father
A lonely gray for the ship crossing the ocean
A confused yellow for arriving on the island and finding nothing familiar
A surprised orange for discovering the goat (who also needed a friend)
A gentle lavender for writing letters to Emily, steadied by her memory
A peaceful green for the slow realization that this strange life might be his
When the maps are complete, share them. What did everyone notice? Were there feelings someone else included that you missed? Did anyone use the same color for different feelings?
Activity Two: The Waiting Game (Crumpet's Lesson)
Crumpet Noggin waited twenty-five years for his wealthy merchant. That's a long time. Almost unfathomably long. And yet, he waited. He sat outside Mrs. Fidget's day after day, playing his invisible violin, hoping.
This activity explores waiting—that difficult, patient, often frustrating emotion.
For younger children:
Talk about things worth waiting for. A birthday. A holiday. A visit from someone you love. A seed growing into a plant. A cake in the oven.
Then do some waiting together. Plant a seed and wait for it to sprout. Bake something and wait for it to cool. (This is the hardest kind of waiting.) While you wait, talk about what Crumpet might have thought about during his twenty-five years. Did he ever get discouraged? What kept him going?
For older children:
Discuss the difference between passive waiting (just sitting there) and active waiting (hoping, preparing, staying open). Crumpet didn't just sit—he played his violin, he talked to passersby, he collected his oddities, he lived his life while he waited.
Ask: Is there something you're waiting for right now? How can you wait actively rather than passively? What can you do, while you wait, to make the waiting meaningful?
For adults and book clubs:
Consider the role of hope in waiting. Crumpet hoped for twenty-five years. Was that foolish? Beautiful? Both? What would it have meant to give up? What would it have meant to stop hoping?
Also discuss the timing of the merchant's arrival. He came after Crumpet had heroically defended his bucket—not before. Does the story suggest that waiting itself changed Crumpet in ways that made the reward meaningful? Or is it just luck, finally arriving?
Activity Three: The Courage Chart (Oliver's Lesson)
Oliver walked through the cold to serenade Sally. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if she'd even hear him. But he went anyway.
This activity explores courage—not the loud, dramatic kind, but the quiet, ordinary kind.
You'll need:
Paper
Pens or pencils
The Setup:
Draw a line down the middle of the paper. On one side, write "Things That Feel Scary." On the other side, write "Things I Did Anyway."
For younger children:
Brainstorm together. What feels scary? The dark. Meeting new people. Trying something hard. Speaking in front of others. Then, for each scary thing, think of a time you did it anyway. Celebrate each one. Oliver's courage wasn't about not being scared—it was about going forward even though he was.
For older children:
Go deeper. What's the difference between courage and recklessness? Oliver wore mittens—he prepared. He chose a January evening—he picked his moment. He played his Gingham Glimmergit—he used what he had. Courage doesn't mean being unprepared. It means being prepared and going anyway.
For everyone:
Add to the chart over time. Keep it somewhere visible. When someone does something brave—even small brave things—add it to the "Things I Did Anyway" side. Watch the list grow.
Activity Four: The Home-Building Project (Fizzwick and Toddy's Lesson)
Fizzwick and Toddy lost everything. Their bakery. Their town. Their life. And then they built something new.
This activity explores resilience—the ability to start again when starting again feels impossible.
For families:
Talk about what makes a home. Is it a building? A place? The people you're with? The things you love?
Then, together, build a small representation of "home." This could be:
A drawing of your dream home
A shoebox diorama of a cozy space
A list of the things that make a place feel like home to you
A recipe for something that tastes like home (Fizzwick and Toddy would approve of this one)
For classrooms:
Discuss the concept of "Brimblebutton's Rest"—the name Fizzwick and Toddy chose for their new farm. Why that name? What does it tell you about what they wanted?
Then have students name their own imaginary safe place. Not a real place—an invented one. What would it be called? What would it contain? Who would live there with you? What would you do there?
For book clubs:
Consider the role of community in resilience. Fizzwick and Toddy had each other. They had "The Flying Scone" and its pilot, Thaddeus Twigglebottom III, Esquire. They had the memory of Marmalade Junction. They weren't alone.
What role do relationships play in our ability to start over? Who would be in your "Flying Scone" if you had to flee?
Activity Five: The Letter to Someone Far Away (Percival's Lesson)
Percival writes letters to Emily Fairbourne, the woman he loves, even though he may never see her again. "Her memory steadies every unsteady step," the story tells us. His letters are a way of staying connected, of making sense of his experiences, of holding onto someone who matters even when they're far away.
This activity explores longing, love, and the strange comfort of writing to someone who may never write back.
For all ages:
Write a letter to someone you miss. It could be:
A friend who moved away
A grandparent you don't see often
Someone who's no longer with you
Your future self
A character you love (why not write to Percival himself?)
Tell them about your adventures. Your small triumphs. Your hard days. What you're learning. What you're hoping. What you remember about them.
You don't have to send the letter. The writing is the point. Like Percival, you're steadying yourself with memory.
For younger children who can't write yet:
Draw a picture for someone you miss. Tell them about it. Describe what's in the picture and why you chose those things.
For classrooms:
Discuss why Percival writes to Emily. She may never read his letters, but he writes them anyway. What does that suggest about the purpose of writing? Is it always about being read, or can it be about something else?
Have students write a letter to someone—real or imagined, present or absent—and then reflect on how it felt to write it.
For book clubs:
Consider the role of Emily in Percival's story. She's not physically present, but she's everywhere. How does an absent character shape a narrative? What does it mean to write for someone who may never read what you've written?
Also discuss the goat. The goat also needed a friend. What does it mean that Percival, who has lost so much, finds companionship in a goat? What does the goat represent?
Activity Six: The Intention Check (Noddy and Poppy's Lesson)
Noddy and Poppy cause chaos wherever they go. But they mean well. They want to help. They just have a peculiar way of showing it.
This activity explores the gap between intention and impact.
For all ages:
Think of a time when you meant to help but actually made things worse. (It happens to everyone. Even Noddy and Poppy.) What happened? How did you feel? What did you do afterward?
Then think of a time when someone meant to help you but accidentally made things harder. How did that feel? Did you know they meant well? Did it matter?
For older participants:
Discuss the jack-rabbits. Noddy and Poppy didn't plan to acquire five long-legged, chaos-prone creatures. They just... did. And then they had to figure out what to do with them.
What unexpected "jack-rabbits" have shown up in your life? Things you didn't plan for, didn't ask for, but now have to figure out how to handle?
For everyone:
The key to Noddy and Poppy is that they adapt. They don't get rid of the jack-rabbits. They train them. They feature them in a show. They make the best of what they've been given.
What would it look like to make the best of your unexpected jack-rabbits?
A Deeper Dive for Book Clubs and Adult Readers
If you're reading these stories with other adults—in a book club, a parent group, or just with friends—consider these questions for a richer conversation.
On Oliver Hefflewhistle:
Oliver's serenade is "played with a mittened hand on a January night under a sky of arithmetic stars." What makes this image so powerful?
Sally responds with a feather. Not a word. Not a wave. Just a feather. What does this gesture communicate?
The story ends with Oliver looking at the stars, which have rearranged themselves into "an equation that only Oliver could understand." What does this suggest about the relationship between love and meaning?
On Old Crumpet Noggin:
Crumpet waits twenty-five years for his wealthy merchant. Is this story about patience, or about something else entirely?
The thief steals Crumpet's bucket, and Crumpet gives chase, hurling a tin of beans. Why does this moment matter? What does it reveal about Crumpet?
When the merchant finally arrives, he wants the bucket for his "rare collection of enchanted marbles." Does this feel like a worthy purpose after twenty-five years of waiting? Why or why not?
On Oh, the Roaming Fairy Folks of Mischief:
Noddy and Poppy cause chaos wherever they go. Are they heroes or troublemakers? Can they be both?
The jack-rabbits are "proof that we've truly lost our marbles," Noddy says. What does it mean to embrace the chaos instead of fighting it?
The story ends with Poppy declaring, "I think we're not just wanderers anymore. I think we're legends in the making." What makes someone a legend?
On The War of the Whiffle Waffles:
The dedication reads: "To little things long remembered / To Moonlight walks and shooting stars / To D, Young / From the girl who painted stories and the boy who sat beside her." How does this dedication shape how you read the tale?
Fizzwick and Toddy lose everything but build something new. What does this story suggest about home? Is it a place, or something you carry with you?
The Whiffle Waffles are fearsome, but they're also waffles. What does it mean when our enemies are, at some level, absurd?
On Percival: Lost in Paradise:
Percival runs away when Emily's father expresses his opposition "with a firearm." Is he a coward? Or is something else happening?
He writes letters to Emily even though she may never read them. What does this tell us about the purpose of writing? About the nature of love?
The goat appears because "even the universe agrees that Percival shouldn't be entirely alone." Why is the goat such a perfect companion for Percival?
The story is framed as "recollections of a year spent far from home, written for Miss Emily Fairbourne, whose memory steadies every unsteady step." What does it mean to be steadied by memory?
How does Percival's story change our understanding of failure? Of bravery? Of what it means to make a life?
A Note on the Dedications
Throughout these stories, the dedications offer their own emotional landscape:
"To little things long remembered"
"To my dear nephew Isaiah and little niece Emily, with love from your Anty"
"With love to Eric and Amelia"
"To D, Young / From the girl who painted stories and the boy who sat beside her"
These remind us that stories are not just stories. They are gifts. They are messages in bottles, sent to specific people, carrying specific love.
When you share these tales with your own loved ones, you become part of that chain. The story that was given to Isaiah and Emily gets given to your children. The story that was painted for D, Young gets painted again in your living room.
This is how feelings travel. This is how love lasts.
A Final Thought on Feelings
There's a moment in "Percival: Lost in Paradise" that I return to whenever I need reminding of what stories can do.
Percival, writing his letters to Emily, reflecting on everything he's lost and everything he's found, comes to a quiet realization. He is not where he planned to be. He is not who he planned to be. He is on an island with a goat, having absurd adventures, writing to a woman who may never read his words.
And yet.
He is still writing. Still walking. Still taking "one unsteady step" after another, steadied by memory, held by love, open to whatever comes next.
This is what feelings are like, isn't it? We can never be quite sure if they're messages from the universe or just bits of celestial whimsy. We can never be quite sure if the hope we're carrying is justified or foolish. We can never be quite sure if the love we're offering will be received.
But we offer it anyway. We play our mittened songs. We wait with our buckets. We cause our well-intentioned chaos. We build our new homes. We write our letters to those we miss.
Because the alternative—not offering, not waiting, not trying, not building, not writing—is no way to live.
The feelings are the point. The stories are the proof.
Next in Blog 6: "Something Brave This Way Comes — The Percival Principle and Why We Love a Lovable Failure"
Until then: create your cozy space. Light your candle. Settle in. The stories are waiting.
Look, Listen, Linger, Laugh, and Love.
— Sophia Salazar, Editor-in-Chief
— Sophia Salazar, Editor-in-Chief
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