A cute story about 2 boys and 3 little pigs

The kids are almost inescapable. The ones at site hang on your legs, and the ones in the city hang on your change purse. Both pull heart strings. It's a lot harder to say no to a cute little kid.

So one evening, sitting on the steps of a church in the Andean city of Cajamarca, my two good girl friends and I tried a different approach.

"I'll tell you the story of this church for a little money," Edwin, 11, asked us, his lower lip jutting out just slightly — surely to knock off a couple years and boost his cuteness level.

We looked at each other, unsure as to how to let this lil' guy down gently. I was about to say the same unfortunate speech we always give to those asking for money on the street "Thanks but No Thanks," when my friend Jules said: "I have a better idea. How about we tell YOU a story, and you give US a little money."

Edwin looked at us, eyes wide. His friend, Percy, 12, sauntered over, and Edwin told his friend what these apparently nuts gringas had just offered him.

I thought it was a brilliant idea.

"Yeah, do you know the story of "Los Tres Chanchitos?" I asked. The three little pigs.

Incredulous, Edwin shook his head and started to walk away. Percy, however, nodded his head vigorously and plopped down on the step in front of us.

"Well," I began, "Once upon of time there were three little pigs."

Edwin, caving, came back and sat down next to his friend. His eyebrows were furrowed, but he was apparently ready to listen.

I smiled down at him and kept going.

"And there lived a big, bad wolf —"

"Who wanted to eat the pigs!" Percy chimed in.

A little surprised, I nodded.

"Yeah. He wanted to eat them. So to protect themselves the pigs built houses. The first one made his house out of —"

"Straw!" Percy jumped in again. "And the wolf blew his house down!"

"Right," I said laughing. "But thankfully, he escaped to his brother's house which had been made of —"

"Sticks!" This time, Edwin. "And the wolf brought in all this air, filled up his bellow this far" — Edwin stuck out his belly and puffed out his cheeks— "and blew the house down."

"Mm-hmm, but the two escaped and went the house of the third brother who had built it —"

"Out of bricks," both boys shouted at once. Then both rushed to finish the story.

"The wolf tried to blow the house down —"

"He filled his belly with air like this —"

"But he couldn't do it, so he climbed up the chimney —"

"The pigs had built a fire —"

"He burnt his tail!"

"And he never came back to hurt them again."

By this time a small group of boys had come to listen, and Edwin and Percy leaned back again triumphantly.

They asked us questions about where we were from and why we were here, and threw out the few English words that they knew.

Right as we were about to leave, Edwin held out the small package of candy he had in his hand, offering some to each of us.

It was dark, so we got up to leave. A long series of high-fives ensued before we finally headed down the stone steps, waving goodbye.