(You may not want to try this at home)
Heaven knows why, but recently I got to thinking of the stories I used to make with my granddaughters. You know how it works. The kids give you the characters, (one, I remember, was a pink pony named Sundaymorny) and you run with it. Occasionally you pause for more input: “Puffing and panting, they finally slowed. Yes, it looked like they’d outrun the orange-spotted monster. They trudged to the top of the next hill hoping to find water and shade on the other side. But suddenly they stopped in horror. Oh, no! It was_________(okay, girls. What do they see?)”
We’ve probably all been reduced to this at some point. Stuck in traffic with no books in sight. Surrounded by shelves of books they just don’t want at the moment. Or during the winter holidays years back when daughter and son/law had to be at Best Buy from 5:00 AM to 8:00 PM. We elected to keep the girls at night rather than match that schedule. Both girls being avid readers, we ran short pretty fast. To fully appreciate this, you must understand that the roof of our house is supported by bookcases.
Anyway, I just stumbled onto the Editor’s Note section of mental_floss, my magazine of choice during a de-frag, and found someone else’s account of this experience. He begins:“Like many 2-year-olds, my son, Henry, is obsessed with superheroes. Every night, he insists on a story that includes them all. The stories I tell are horrible.” Once, he says, the superheroes were desperate for a Cobb salad, but didn’t know how to make one. Here Henry took charge, marching them all to the library to look up a recipe. Then it’s off to the grocery store; then back to make the salad. Afterward they’re all very tired and take naps.
Of course superpowers come into play. Superman flies to the highest shelf to snag a cookbook, Spiderman uses his Spidey sense to locate the produce aisle, etc. So mission accomplished. Henry’s happy.
It can either be exhausting or get-carried-away fun. Either way, I’d love to hear YOUR stories!