"Grammy, Grammy, tell us a story!" begged the little grandmice as they were getting ready for bed.

"Yeah, tell us a story, but it has to be a real one!"

"Well", she said to the little grandmice, "Let me think....A long time ago, we mice used to freeze during the winter months here in Mousalia. Winters were severe, and we'd get shiveries down our backs all the time.Then one terribly cold winter's day, somewhat like this one..."
"Like this one?" interrupted Sweetimouse.

"Yes, Sweetikins, like this one." Grandma Wisemouse smiled as she continued, "A smart young mouse came running in from the human's house, and she was very excited! Do you know why she was excited?"

"'Cause she'd seen a CAT!" squealed Timmymouse. "Noooo..."replied Grandma.

"'Cause she saw an owl?" said another.

"Silly mousie! Owls don't live in human's houses!" answered Bravemouse, who was, of course, the bravest.

"What was it?"

"Do tell!!!" said all the little mice at once.

When she was able to calm down all the grandmice, Grandma answered them, "She found yarn!"
"Yarn!??"

"What's so exciting about yarn?"

"Hush, Timmy! Grandma, please continue the story!" said Sweetie as she covered Timmy's snout.

"Well", said the wise mouse, "Yarn was exciting because she was able to learn how to use it to make useful and pretty things. The humans called it "crochet"and refered to it as an art. She also brought back a needle, which her father took, flattened one of the ends like the human's instruments which they called 'hook', and began to crochet!

"Crochet!" exclaimed all the little mice.

"Yes, crochet! " said the wise grandma.

And Tommymouse, Timmy's twin brother, who had been silent during the story, and watching his Grandma Wisemouse carefully, suddenly exclaimed, " "Grandma! YOU'RE that mouse! Aren't you? Aren't you?"
And laughingly, as she gathered all the little mice into her arms for a goodnight hug, said with a twinkle in her wise old eyes, "Now, Tommy, what makes you think that?"

And Tommy replied, "Because YOU are the one who always teaches the other mice to crochet, and I heard Mommy Mouse talk about an old old needle she once saw put away carefully and called it a hair, uh, a hoo, a her.. a..."

"An "heirloom"? helped Grandma.

"Yes! 'Xactly that! A hairloom!"

"He said "HAIRloom!" , cried Smartymouse, and all the little mice started to giggle as Grandma tucked them in under their tiny crocheted blankets.

As Grandma Wisemouse came to his bed to tuck him in, Tommymouse asked again in a very low voice, "Grandma, ARE you the little mouse who learned to crochet in the story?"

Grandma Wisemouse looked at this, her smallest grandmouse, and replied gently, "Yes, dearie, I am the one." And tucked him in and kissed him goodnight.

The End.

© by Ambar E. Alcala