Jake could barely hold in his laughter as he stepped inside the “tiny house” with his older sister Sunday. The house was part of a weird little tourist attraction they’d stumbled upon during their weekend road trip, and from the outside, it looked like a colorful garden shed with windows.

But once they walked inside, Jake looked up at Sunday and burst out laughing. “There’s no way,” he said, nearly doubling over. “You can literally touch the ceiling.”

Sunday, standing in the middle of the miniature living room, raised both arms and easily pressed her palms flat against the ceiling with a blank expression. “I feel like I’m in a dollhouse,” she said, squinting at the tiny table that barely came up to her knees. “Why does this look like something Eliana would live in just for the aesthetic?”

Jake kept walking through the place, ducking his head because even he could almost touch the top of the doorframe. “You’re short and you still look too big for this house.”

Sunday rolled her eyes. “Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all, who designed this house for… ants?”

Jake flopped onto the child-sized couch and immediately regretted it. “It’s like sitting on a shoebox,” he groaned.

She opened one of the miniature cabinets in the kitchen and held up a spoon that looked more like a Barbie prop. “I swear if this whole house is like this, we’re gonna lose our minds in five minutes.”

Jake smirked. “Too late. I already feel like I’m going insane. Sunday, your head is literally brushing the ceiling fan.”

They both looked up—and yeah, it was true.

Sunday just sighed and said in the most dramatic voice ever, “This is what happens when Jake picks the activities.”

Jake shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted an ‘adventure.’”

“Next time, we’re going to a five-star spa,” she muttered, crouching to walk out the door.