Let me tell you about a teapot who thought it was the grandest thing on the breakfast table. It was made of the finest china, you see, and had a long, graceful spout and a perfectly curved handle. It was very proud of these.

"I am the queen of the tea tray!" it would often think, looking down its spout at the sugar bowl and the cream jug. "They are useful, of course, but I am beautiful AND useful! I pour the lovely, warm tea for everyone."

The teapot loved to feel the hot water fill it up, and then, with a gentle tilt, pour the steaming tea into the delicate cups. It felt very important.

One morning, a rather clumsy hand reached for the teapot. Whoops! Down it went. Clink! Bang! Oh dear.
When it was picked up, the beautiful spout was chipped, and the elegant handle had snapped right off.

The teapot felt terribly sad. "My life is over," it sighed to itself. "No one will want a broken teapot. I can't pour tea properly anymore." It was put on a shelf in the back, feeling quite forgotten.

But not for long! One day, someone with kind eyes saw it. "Hmm," they said, "this old teapot could hold a plant!"
So, they filled the teapot with soft, brown earth. The teapot wasn't sure about this. "Dirt? In me?" it thought. Then, a little flower bulb was tucked gently into the soil.

The teapot sat on a sunny windowsill. Soon, a tiny green shoot poked out of the earth. It grew and grew, and one sunny morning, a beautiful, bright flower bloomed right out of the teapot! Its petals were a cheerful yellow, and it smelled wonderful.

People would come and say, "Oh, what a lovely flower! And what a charming pot for it!"
The teapot felt a new kind of happiness. It wasn't just a fancy teapot anymore; it was a home for something beautiful and alive. It felt more important than ever before, even with its broken spout and missing handle. It learned that even when things change, or you feel a bit broken, you can still be useful and bring joy in a whole new way.

Years passed. The flower bloomed many times. Eventually, the old teapot was too cracked and was gently placed in the garden. It lay there, a piece of china among the plants and the soil. But it didn't mind. It remembered being the grandest teapot on the tray, and it remembered being a happy home for a beautiful flower. And that, it thought, was a very good life indeed.

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