Really Thumbthing!

Scott Gustavson

Sometimes, dreams are answered and then prove to be anything but what the dreamer was expecting.

With me so far?

Maybe I should explain…

Many years ago, a hardworking farm couple were visited by none other than Merlin, the magician.

Yes. THAT Merlin.

The couple, not suspecting that they were entertaining royalty, welcomed the man warmly and gave him food and conversation.

Culminating in a very pleasant afternoon.

At the end of his visit, Merlin made a rather personal inquiry.

Apparently, despite the fact that the couple was generous and thoughtful and infinitely kind, he could see that, deep down, both were sad.

When he inquired, they finally confessed that their greatest wish—to have a baby—had never been granted.

The woman exclaimed that, even if she could have a child no larger than her husband’s thumb, she would be happy.

Okay, I just want to say here that I've always been afraid of getting a small dog for fear of stepping on it or, heaven forbid, sitting on it.

So I'm thinking this definitely wouldn't be MY wish.

Who's with me?

Ahem...

The idea tickled Merlin somewhat.

Okay, a lot.

And his next stop was to visit with the Queen of the Fairies to arrange it.

Because, of course he knew the Queen of the Fairies.

The two of them put their heads together and…erm…arranged.

Okay, I admit I have no idea how a Human Magician and an Elven Fairy Queen could possibly grant this wish.

That part is rather fuzzy in the details.

Regardless, a few months later, the good farm folk were blessed with a perfect little son, no larger than his papa’s thumb.

The Queen came to his christening and he was duly named, Tom Thumb.

For obvious reasons.

Okay, imagination only goes so far in these stories…

Moving on…

He was dressed in the finest, from a spider silk shirt to mouse skin shoes.

And treated with the kindness and love that only two thought-they-could-never-have-a-child-and-now-have-realized-their-greatest-wish parents could muster.

And he thrived.

Sort of.

I mean, there was that time he fell into his mother’s bowl and ended up almost being cooked with her pudding.

And the day he went with his mother to milk the cows and ended up being eaten by one of the aforementioned bovines.

What was a rare treat.

Oh, and the time he went to ‘help’ (I use this word hesitantly) his father plow the fields and got swooped up by an eagle, dropped on the head of a giant, eaten by said giant before being spit out because—let’s face it, no one wants to try to swallow something that fights back—and swallowed by a fish.

Did you ever have one of those days?

Fortunately, the fish was caught almost immediately and taken to the kitchens of the palace to be served to the King for his dinner.

And out popped Tom.

I’ve always wondered about that. I mean, how much air do you suppose there is inside a fish?

That brings up the whole Jonah and the whale story.

Or Pinocchio.

But we’ll save those for another time…

Where was I?

Oh yes. Tom. Fish. Palace kitchen.

Tom immediately captivated both the staff and the royals and quickly became a court favourite. In fact, the King was so taken with the little lad that he carried Tom around in the pocket of his waistcoat whenever he was out riding.

How’s that for a little favouritism?

Plus the fact that there are generally no puddings, cows, eagles, giants or fish in a King’s pocket, so Tom was infinitely safer.

Tom did go and visit his parents, who were always tearfully glad to see him, but his home now was with the King and court, so his visits were relatively short.

All was well.

Except for that day when he and the King had a misunderstanding and Tom, to escape what he thought was the King’s wrath, leaped onto the back of a butterfly and took off.

Of course you know he would fall off.

And land in a watering pot.

Where he nearly drowned.

But was saved at the last minute by a gardener’s child.

Whew.

The king was so relieved, he completely forgot he’d been upset with the little lad and made much of him instead, by ordering the royal tailors to make a new wardrobe (size 0000000000) and the royal harness maker to craft a tiny saddle, bridle and accoutrements to fit a Tom-sized steed—a

mouse, of course— and welcomed him into his Round Table of Knights.

And just so you know, our little Tom Thumb, he of the humble farmer/pudding/cow/eagle/giant/fish/butterfly/flowerpot upbringing became one of the best loved of King Arthur’s knights.

Proving once and for all that greatness isn’t always measured in size.

It's Fly time again!

That day when Karen, Marcia and I reveal what's been happening in our homes, minds and hearts this month.

Thank you for joining us!

I hope you enjoyed my contribution.

Now hurry over and read theirs.

You'll be glad you did!

Karen at Baking In A Tornado 

Marcia at Menopausal Mother   

And while I've got you here...
My book, Tom, Becoming, has been nominated for the Author of the Year award.
Could you...would you pleeease go and vote for me? Just click Here!
I'll love you forever!