The storyteller

Henry is less than three feet tall.  And lives in one of those houses down there.  

This morning, he was enthusiastically walking up the moor in his bright, shiny yellow, Paddington-style mac and blue wellington boots.  We met at a crossroads in the fern.

Henry: Can I stroke your dog please?
Me:  What a great thing to ask. I wish I could say yes, but she's actually really nervous though and doesn't like to meet new people.
Henry: What's her name?
Me: CJ. What's your name?
Henry: Henry. I like dogs.
[Pause]
Henry: We have a dog. [Note 'we']
Me: Do you?
Henry: Yes, she's called Hazel. And she eats wax.
Me: Wax? [puzzled]
Henry: Wax.
Dad steps in: Rats
Me: Ahhh, blimey! I guess that can be helpful.
[Both nod]
Henry: Yes.  And she has a very long neck.
Me: [Picturing giraffe and looking curious]
Dad [walking off and looking over shoulder as Henry disappears into the fern which is way above his head]: Hazel has been squeezed and stroked a lot, hence the long neck.  Hazel is from Ikea.  Henry has a very good imagination.
Me:  Henry will go a long way!






Does it pass for a Silly Saturday ...story? With a bit of a silly photo idea pinched from Tiny Tuesday?!  (Been itching to try the toy town look!)