All the stories are educational but the in brief stories for babies (up to 3 years old) this characteristic is always stressed.
Also, probably lots of little children will think that the tale contain true stories with details very close to their reality.
The structure of the love stories about the little village Waves in the Sea of Cane (Cañaveruelas), because it is a collection of brief tales which all begin with the same two paragraphs as the story of The Cat, permits us to repeat another paragraph or two when it is considered convenient or it has been a long time since one in particular is mentioned or, simply, we want to make it a bit longer.
Furthermore, the structure of these stories permits us to combine them so that we can include two or more elements of different brief stories in just one tale.
THE COSO CAT
In a little village near H… (Huete) that was called C… (Cañaveruelas-Waves in the Sea of Cane), a little boy lived in a square in the center of the village that was called the C… (The Coso).
In the Coso there was a house where the little boy lived with his family: his mommy and daddy and his six siblings, three brothers and three sisters.
In the same house lived some other animals. In a stall lived the Jica, a very good donkey, very strong and a very good worker; and in another stall lived two goats that gave milk for the breakfast of all the little children.
The little boy loved the Jica, he loved her so much, in fact, that his first words were Jica, Jica.
As well, in the house there was a cat that was called The Cat and she was in charge of making sure that there were not many mice, because they could eat the food that was in storage. The Cat was a very fun animal; every time she went past the little boy she would push him with her big tummy and throw him on the floor.
On top of all that, the house had a corral in the back where there was a small henhouse for the hens who, among other things, laid eggs, and fried eggs were delicious. Just under the henhouse was the pen, a very, very small room where a little fat pig lived.
The little boy was two years old, grabbing the kitchen table, where they had lunch and supper with his hands and getting on tiptoe to try to see what was on top of the table; he didn’t like not knowing what was there and he didn’t like the fact that everybody else did.
The little boy was very happy to live in the house in the Coso with his family and so many animals, he thought himself very lucky to have been born human instead of donkey, cat, goad, hen, pig or, why not? ant.
He was very keen to learn what was on the table without having to have someone pick him up; to be able to pick the jug of water up without having to wait until someone gave it to him when he was thirsty; and he was keen to avoid getting thrown to the floor when the cat brushed him with her big tummy.
He didn’t hurt himself when he hit the ground, but even though in the beginning he thought they were little accidents, he later realized that, instead of accidents, it was a bit like if the cat were saying I’m stronger and I’m the boss here.
Another thing he loved was looking at the fire. In the kitchen floor there was a base of metal stuck to the wall, just under the chimney, where his mummy cooked the food in pots and pans with the heat of the fire. The continuous changes in strength and color of the flames and the embers were fascinating and huge pieces of wood were reduced to little mounds of ashes.
The little boy was very happy, and everybody was very good, his mummy and daddy and his six sibling. With so many siblings he was always playing. When someone asked him who he loved more, his father or the Jica, he always answered the Jica, because he thought that the Jica needed more love and was lonelier.
Every day that went by, the little boy was nearer to seeing what was on the table, until one day, finally, he managed it. Then he thought that his next goal would be to avoid being thrown to the floor by the cat.
He now knew that they weren’t accidents, and that she usually threw him when he was in the middle of the kitchen. So he needed to be on guard the, because the cat normally caught him off guard, she was very sly. Bit by bit he started to be able to hold the cat’s belly with both hands before she pushed him.
It was like a giant’s battle, a very fun battle with his friend the cat. When they were eating, he would throw crumbs or bits of bread because the cat was always rubbing around the kitchen table’s legs.
Days and days went by, weeks and weeks, probably months and months, even though the boy wasn’t really sure what a month was, until the forces were balanced. For a period of time, not long but not short, when the cat and the boy passed by each other, in the middle of the kitchen or in other parts of the house, they didn’t know if the boy would end up on the floor, or if he would manage to hold on to the cat without falling.
In the end, the cat began to shirk the battle, the boy had grown, he was very proud but, at the same time, he missed the gentle rub of the cat pushing him to the ground.
Nevertheless, the cat sometimes rubbed the boy, but as a show of affection and without wanting to throw him.
And they all live happily ever after