Instead, I wanted to share this with you. My mom just reminded me of this. When I was a little kid, my dad use to read to me every night before bed. And one of my favorite stories was "The Teeny Tiny Woman".
Now when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was a teeny-tiny tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her teeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard.I have no idea why I was so fascinated by this story. Except that I was probably about three or four years old and the constant repeated use of "Teeny Tiny" gave me giggle fits. I mean, when you really pay attention to the story it seems a little horrifying to read to a child. But early in my subconscious I was fascinated by teeny tiny places. (But maybe not teeny tiny haunted bones).
|I am pretty sure we had this version of the story, but I could be wrong.|
|My teeny tiny stairs, and my teeny tiny bed.|