I discovered The Littles one weekend while reading over my brother's shoulder. Every Friday like clockwork, he made a run to our elementary school library and would return home with many lovely tales. He would always share his booty of books with his little sister who increasingly became addicted to this weekend escapist ritual. He was my supplier.
As the story goes, the Littles were a family of tiny people: the tallest, Mr. William T. Little stood a mere six inches off the ground. His family lived in the walls of a regular sized human's house, one George Bigg (aptly named). By all accounts the Biggs were unaware that a family of tiny people lived in their home. Written by John Peterson, the series follows the adventures of this unique family, their extended kin and neighbours as they navigate through a "big" world. The only other quality that differentiated the Littles from other folks were their tails.
"The Littles had tails. There didn't seem to be any reason for the Littles to have tails. They couldn't do anything with them. They couldn't hang by their tails. And they didn't wag them when they were happy.
But the Littles liked their tails. They kept them combed and brushed. They tried never to drag their tails on the floor. If a Little was seen dragging his tail, the other Littles knew he was sick with a fever. And he was put right to bed and given a chip from the family's aspirin tablet."
The only copy of the Littles that graced my bookshelf was The Littles to the Rescue purchased via Scholastic Books. It was brilliantly illustrated by Roberta Carter Clark. There are several updated versions of the cover but none better than the Scholastic cover I had as a kid:
|my copy of The Littles to the Rescue survived |
the rigors of childhood and passing decades
In The Littles to the Rescue, Mrs. Little is about to give birth and anxiously awaits the arrival of her nurse, Aunt Lily who is caught in a snow storm. Can she make it in time?
Ah, a charming read. One that I've not forgotten all these years later.