My Mother would sing rhymes and recite short poems to me at bedtime when I was too young to read or even be read to. One of my favorites, which became a bedtime ritual I would prolong as endlessly as possible, went like this: "Había una vez, un tigre alrevés; quieres que te cuente orta vez?" to which I would invariably reply "Si! Otra vez!" Which would bring on another rhyme, naming each thing I loved in the world "una flor alreves" "una manzana alreves" and so on. In this way, I would be lulled to sleep, and dream of an upside down world.
