The idea for this story was born on a late summer evening over a delicious plate of porcini mushroom risotto.
While Sandro, my husband, was firing a few hundred virtual gunshots with Antonio—his hunting buddy and gaming companion—Mara, the hostess, and I, having exhausted the usual conversations about the girls, the house, and work, ventured into a serious topic: the importance of waste sorting and the need to recycle with awareness and purpose.
It was a thought that had long been waiting to take shape: finding a way to "do something with and for schools," starting from the theme of recycling and regenerating plastic materials. And it was also a personal wish of mine—to write something different from a bureaucratic resolution.
I had glimpsed the magic that only a mother’s imagination and the dual-voiced language of childhood could bring to life.
We had found a potential point of connection between our professional activities and a topic that would keep us busy for the entire duration of the VHS tape that had hypnotized our daughters—our little mentors, now immersed in a whole other world.
Well, while Mara is a young entrepreneur in the field of plastic collection and regeneration—her Audi visiting clients and suppliers with pride—I am a civil servant, commuting by public bus, who has been working in the field of educational rights for over ten years.
She explained the career paths of certain types of plastics that can be easily regenerated, while I live with the constant concern that the toys and learning materials given to children are of safe and reliable quality.
Two very different professions, as different as our daily routines.
But we shared a common story: the differentiated tale of waste.
Together, we launched an experimental phase with the children of a preschool, guiding them in sorting PP and PE plastics. Through calm guidance and their small daily efforts, we introduced them to objects and toys made from used materials—items that weren’t meant to be regenerated, but in the end, had to be new for safety reasons.
Miracle over! Or rather, momentarily paused…
Her entrepreneurial side, technical concerns, and practical mindset resurfaced, while in me, my old teaching vocation and fragments of university pedagogy came back to life.
End of dinner... beginning of the real work! Resuming the miracle.
To her, the "technical" role; to me, the "romantic" one.
Each of us with our part—and to you, dear reader, if you have the patience to continue, this story I created thinking about how I might explain the project to my almost-four-year-old daughter Rachele, and to Mara’s daughter Gaia, who recently blew out her second birthday candle.
Thank you for your patience and for the effort that often goes unrecognized: the effort of reading.
From that evening’s conversation came the project “Toys in Exchange for Recycled Waste”.
The aim: to introduce preschool children to the concepts of waste sorting, recycling, and material regeneration. The proposal: schools collect plastic bottle caps from water and soft drinks, and in exchange receive new toys proportional to the amount collected. The project was shared and implemented with the kind support of the company Riplast.
Through further research, we discovered that toys for children are never made from regenerated plastic, as this material—although extremely useful in many applications—cannot provide the necessary safety guarantees for this specific use.
Mara’s technician turned romantic, as he designed the characters of the story and illustrated all the picture boards. My romantic side took on a technical tone as I worked on the project definition and initiated contacts with the pilot school.
Fairy Marella Makes the Earth Cleaner and More Beautiful
Text: Laura Maffazioli
A few months ago, in a place not too far away, there was—and still is—a factory that makes plastic items. Many useful and colorful objects are made there, and some less useful, yet just as beautiful and interesting.
In a very special department of that factory, caps were produced—the kind that adults and children remove and put back on bottles every day. Some screw off, others pop open, and others are pulled off with a tab. Red, yellow, blue, white, and violet; tall and narrow, fuchsia and brown; cheerful, serious, and playful.
The newly made caps chatted joyfully and animatedly with one another. Voices could be heard from every corner, laughing, joking, and occasionally you could make out what the little caps were saying:
“I’ll hold in sparkling water,” said one.
“I’ll keep milk or orange soda safe,” said another.
“I’ll protect you by sealing soap, detergent, and mysterious products tight,” added a third.
“And I, with my tight closure, will keep wine, liquor, and beer fresh for dad,” said yet another.
All of them felt useful, beautiful, and proud as they moved in an orderly line along the conveyor belt.
Among them was an especially likable little cap named Tap Tappino. He had a round face, a permanent smile, and big dreams for the future. He hoped to end up on a bottle of sparkling water or soda and be part of a child’s birthday party.
One lovely morning, each cap was paired with a bottle filled with something precious, tasty, or in some cases, dangerous. Each bottle got a tamper band and a colorful label.
And so, ready for adventure, Tap Tappino and the others were sent off to big supermarkets, local stores, and market stalls.
Bottles, flasks, and plastic jars stood proudly on store shelves, almost whispering:
“Pick me! I’ve got a delicious surprise inside…”
“Want a nice bath? I’m full of fragrant bubble bath… try me, I’m perfect!”
Meanwhile, people and shopping carts hurried past.
Tap Tappino, thrilled, ended up on a bottle of sparkling water. Clinging tightly to his shiny, transparent bottle, he made sure the label stayed neat and the writing was clearly visible.
Just like children, he sometimes squabbled and elbowed the other bottles and caps on the shelf.
He always wanted to be in front… he was bored in the supermarket and dreamed of being picked first, maybe by a child sitting in a shopping cart seat.
One afternoon, Tap heard a child’s voice and thought, “Here we go! I have to get noticed, right near the ‘special offer’ sign!”
He nudged aside some bottles, toppled a couple, and placed himself right at the front.
The child in the cart reached out, grabbed Tap Tappino and his bottle, and placed them in the cart.
Tap, now ecstatic and curious, whispered to the water bubbles tickling his base,
“Stay calm and quiet. Don’t worry—I’m holding you in. You’ll be released when we get home. Sit still or I’ll pop off!”
The ride on the checkout conveyor belt was a bit scary. Tap’s bottle rolled around several times, but eventually it was tucked safely into a plastic bag and the bubbles settled again.
Then came the trunk of the car—dark inside, but filled with music from the radio and the voice of the boy who had chosen the sparkling water bottle. The child cheerfully announced that tonight he would celebrate his fourth birthday with a wonderful party.
Tap Tappino told the bubbles, now dancing joyfully,
“Tonight we’ll be on a decorated table, poured into sparkling crystal glasses. I’ll watch over everything from atop the bottle to make sure the water stays fresh and nothing spills. Behave, don’t embarrass me!”
Finally, the party began. Tap Tappino was ecstatic. Confetti and streamers filled the room, colorful lights made everything bright, and he, the little cap, wore a fun party hat. His bottle even sported a fancy red polka-dot bow tie.
There was music, singing, dancing, cake with candles, rivers of chocolate, cotton candy, candies and treats. Everyone had a blast unwrapping presents and chasing balloons.
Tap Tappino was proud. He played an important role, and the sparkling water was a hit. He kept watch over the party table, occasionally chatting with the cheeky silverware or paper napkins printed with little elves.
Whenever someone opened his bottle, he felt important.
In children’s hands, he felt safe and happy. When they closed the bottle, he’d grip it tight again, keeping the bubbles inside from jumping out.
While chatting with a bendy orange soda straw, Tap got his first scare.
The party lights dimmed in his mind when the straw whispered:
“You know, Tap… the party’s ending soon. The kids will go to bed in warm pajamas, and Mom will clean up everything.”
“Where will we go?” asked Tap curiously.
“We? — scoffed the straw — to the trash, and then to a horrible place called landfill. The paper napkins told me all about it. They always know everything. It’s awful.”
“The metal cutlery, ceramic plates, glass bowls, and pitchers—they go in the dishwasher, get washed, dried, and come back for the next party.”
“Me too!” cried Tap. “I want to go to another party!”
“You?” sneered the straw, though deep down she shared the same fear. “We’ll be thrown away… poor us…”
A tear of terror slid down her slim figure.
Tap Tappino suddenly didn’t care about the party anymore. He feared the trash and the landfill. Looking into a silver tray, he saw his white color still bright, his form still sturdy, his seal still strong. He wasn’t ready to be thrown away.
He envied the glass pitchers that would return to more parties.
Sure, the water was gone, the bubbles vanished, the label torn off, and his decorations were missing—but no! He still wanted to attend more birthday parties as a bottle cap.
Tap Tappino didn’t give up. Looking around, he found his friend the straw and whispered:
“Come here… I’ve got an idea!”
Later, when the child’s mother cleaned up, Tap Tappino and Nuccia the straw held hands, rolled to the edge of the tablecloth, and leapt to the floor—avoiding the trash bin.
“Saved!” they exclaimed, bruised but upright.
With the broom’s help, which knew every corner of the house, they reached the garden. It was dark and cold, but the sky sparkled with stars. The two rolled onward, aimlessly, and stopped in the grass at the roadside, cold and sleepy. The warmth of the party was gone. They feared the speeding cars but soon fell asleep in each other’s arms, too tired to dream.
By morning, the sun was high. Tap and Nuccia found themselves by a polluted roadside. The grass was damp with dew and fumes, and the flowers were coughing.
“How will we ever get back on supermarket shelves, clean and useful?” asked Nuccia.
“I don’t know,” said Tap, “Who’d want us like this? I lost my bottle, and you’re all crumpled.”
Suddenly, a soft voice interrupted with a chant:
“Fairy Marella makes the Earth clean and beautiful!” (repeated thrice)
Tap rolled toward the voice. It was a tiny green-and-brown checkered turtle, wearing a silk scarf and sweeping the lawn.
“Who are you?” asked Tap.
“I’m Fairy Marella’s helper,” said the turtle, cleaning the daisies. “We animals and kind insects help keep the Earth clean. But now plastic objects like you keep showing up. Humans use you briefly and then toss you away. That’s why the fields are full of garbage, streams are polluted, and the air stinks.”
“We didn’t mean to—” Tap said shyly. “We want to be useful again. We escaped the trash because we were scared and didn’t want our story to end that way.”
“Well then,” said the turtle, “Come with me. I’ll take you to Fairy Marella. She’ll turn you into helpers like me—we need more hands!”
Together they chanted:
“Fairy Marella makes the Earth clean and beautiful!”
They arrived at a large mushroom house, where Fairy Marella, dressed in white and using a daisy for a parasol, sat on a walnut shell chair.
After hearing their story, Marella flipped through a huge spellbook written on birch leaves. She nodded, frowned, scrunched her little nose. Then she smiled and said:
“I’ll do a wonderful spell for you, but you must help me and the children. You see, children are the only ones who still notice the little things adults overlook.”
“Deal!” said Tap and Nuccia. “But only if we can go to birthday parties again—a thousand times!”
“Agreed,” said Marella. “In fact, you’ll stay with the children forever. My magic will keep you from being thrown away again.”
She handed Tap a scroll with pictures of many plastic items that were being tossed carelessly. She asked them to collect as many as possible and place them in a sack prepared for recycling.
Tap and Nuccia waved and hopped to the fence, calling children over. When two or three came, they smiled and asked for help collecting plastic caps.
The kids took it seriously. They gathered all kinds of caps, helped by moms and dads.
Soon, homes were filled with bottles and jars with no caps, and some moms were nearly desperate!
Every day the cap sack grew, while parks, streams, and gardens grew cleaner and more joyful. Even parents joined in, saving caps before throwing bottles away. Teachers collected them too, and rumor had it that even the traffic cop and school bus driver had pockets full of caps!
One night, Tap and Nuccia, now living in the preschool garden, fell asleep atop the sack of recovered caps. They dreamed of a bright blue sky and a shining rainbow. They slid down it like a slide, landing in a cotton candy lake, laughing and swimming like it was a birthday party.
The next morning, just before dawn, Fairy Marella saw the amazing work Tap and Nuccia had done with the children. She waved her magic wand—a glittering little broom—and transformed all the caps into brand-new, colorful toys. When the school opened, the children, their teachers, and their parents were overjoyed.
But wait—where were Tap and Nuccia?
They’d fallen asleep on the cap sack… slid down the rainbow in their dream and…
There they were—magically transformed!
Tap Tappino became a smiling face painted on a little plastic chair, always with the children, joining every party at the preschool.
And Nuccia the straw? Where did she go?
Find out for yourself!
Fairy Marella makes the Earth clean and beautiful!
Fairy Marella makes the Earth clean and beautiful!
Fairy Marella makes the Earth clean and beautiful!
Authors' Acknowledgements
Our most affectionate thanks to...
Sandro, Laura's husband, who, despite being firmly convinced that women are not very gifted with imagination, still manages to be amazed every time he hears her telling fairy tales of her own invention to her daughter Rachele and who once jokingly launched the idea of a publication.
Antonio, Mara's husband, who often remains silent without knowing what to expect from his wife's creative streak and who nevertheless supports her every initiative, intervenes sometimes, correcting her and also leaving her space to make mistakes while putting up with the house invaded by boxes and materials waiting to be transformed.
Stefano Tagliani, part-time footballer, aspiring typographer and future successful publisher who had faith in our first work and who, duly sponsored, also had the courage to publish it.
But, above all, mother Laura and mother Mara thank: little Rachele who, a few months after her fourth birthday, was my guinea pig as a narrator, my proofreader, my first very aggressive critic, my muse in the nights still interrupted by "bad dreams", by pee and by that "naughty little donkey" that too often gets lost between the sheets.
Little Gaia who, at only two years old, always appreciates my artistic spirit and approves with her legendary exclamation: "Oh... your game is beautiful, mother, I like it!".
Laura and Mara
