I thought I was getting a break from putting Monkey to bed when he asked if Butterfly could do it. She lay down in bed with him, sang him a song and told him a story. I was hoping this would become a night time ritual but then he told her he was missing something. When he finally decided it was me, he cried and cried until she came and got me to lay down with him.
"Tell me a story," he said.
"You just had a story."
"I need another one!"
"Butterfly told you one."
Cry, cry, whine, whine.
A little known fact about me is that I hate to tell stories out loud off the cuff. Absolutely hate it. Husband, on the other hand, is very good at it. Me? That's why I write. My extemporaneous stories are hideous.
Cry, cry, whine, whine.
"Fine!" I said. "Once upon a time there was a little boy who cried for everyone in the family to come and lay with him and tell him a story before he went to sleep. Mom came in. Dad came in. Everyone came in. All of them. And he made them all tell him a story until no one wanted to go in anymore and he fell asleep all lonely because he drove them all nuts. The end."
"Wow," Monkey whispered. "That's a good one!"
I guess in the past I was trying too hard.
"Tell me a story," he said.
"You just had a story."
"I need another one!"
"Butterfly told you one."
Cry, cry, whine, whine.
A little known fact about me is that I hate to tell stories out loud off the cuff. Absolutely hate it. Husband, on the other hand, is very good at it. Me? That's why I write. My extemporaneous stories are hideous.
Cry, cry, whine, whine.
"Fine!" I said. "Once upon a time there was a little boy who cried for everyone in the family to come and lay with him and tell him a story before he went to sleep. Mom came in. Dad came in. Everyone came in. All of them. And he made them all tell him a story until no one wanted to go in anymore and he fell asleep all lonely because he drove them all nuts. The end."
"Wow," Monkey whispered. "That's a good one!"
I guess in the past I was trying too hard.
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