Nasreddin had the best apple orchard in the country, and whenever the apples ripened, the neighbor's children would sneak into the orchard and pick them. And with the same consistency, Nasreddin ran out of the house, waving a gun, cursing the scattering children.
A long-term witness to this unsuccessful pursuit, Mulla's neighbor, once told him:
“I don’t understand you, Nasreddin: you are a calm and generous person, your harvest is ten times more than you need, why don’t you give some of it to your children?”
“Hmm,” Nasreddin smiled, “I want them to take the apples, but I was a boy myself and I know that if I hadn’t screamed and chased them, they wouldn’t have come.”
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru