When we were little, my Grandma made us the three bears. They were made out of coarse orange fabric and they had black noses and eyes. They all wore homemade outfits which were changed once or twice over the course of their lives and they sat on a special settee made for them out of card and brown fabric.
They lived in the spare bedroom with two bigger bears that Grandma didn’t make. The smaller of the two was orange with a white muzzle. We called her Grandma Ted. The other was bigger still, pale brown with dark brown patches and a yellow ribbon round his neck: Granddad Ted.
I was thinking about how age equates to size for children when I remembered this memory. For young children, the equation is simple: the taller you are, the older you must be… and generally that means you must be important. Somehow, for small children, age and height make up authority.
Grandma was always quite a small woman. But she was the second biggest bear.
Image from Project Gutenberg