The Adventures of Pinocchio

Before I had a name, I was a happy thought. I was a little whisper in a storyteller's mind. Can you hear a whisper? It's very quiet. I was a feeling of warm sunshine on wood and the happy smell of sawdust. Tap. Tap. Tap. That was the sound of a woodcarver's hammer, making something special. I was a big wish made on a twinkling star. The wish was for a little puppet boy who could laugh and play and one day be a real boy. I am the story of that puppet. I am The Adventures of Pinocchio.

My story begins with a very kind man named Carlo Collodi. He used his special words to bring me to life in a beautiful, sunny country called Italy. It was a long, long time ago, starting on a summer day, July 7th, 1881. He wrote my story a little bit at a time for a magazine that children loved to read. He wrote about my papa, a gentle woodcarver named Geppetto. Geppetto made a puppet out of a special, talking piece of wood. Can you believe it? That puppet was Pinocchio. Carlo wrote all about Pinocchio's big adventures, the friends he met, and the lessons he learned about telling the truth. His nose had a very funny way of growing longer and longer and longer when he told a fib.

Then, in 1883, all my adventures were put together into a big book for everyone to read. Children all around the world could hold me in their hands. They could turn my pages and follow Pinocchio on his journey to become a real boy. I love sharing his story. I show everyone that it’s so important to be brave, kind, and honest with the people you love. And I remind everyone that with a loving heart and a little bit of courage, the most wonderful wishes can come true, just like Pinocchio’s did.