Tonawanda News — He kissed me goodnight, then settled down contentedly. Bemused, I turned off the light.
Where did that come from?
We’re all readers, here. Seven bookcases overflow in our house. My husband and I are avid readers — although not as much as we’d like to be these days — and the boys are working on it. In the meantime, we read to them. I avidly await the day I can sit down with the kids and open my battered copy of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
But this is the first time I had a request for a story from thin air, as it were. I hate to admit that it unnerved me. Like many parents — I’m pretty sure — I’m beat by the time I’m tucking the kids into bed, and the only thoughts on my mind was checking to see if there were any M&Ms still hidden in the cupboard and wondering who might be on Facebook at that time.
Stories? They require thought.
At the same time, I liked it. I liked it a lot. There are many positive attributes I wish to encourage in my children, and imagination is near the top of that list. And how can I encourage it if I don’t show it myself? And, just maybe, I could do both.
The next night, it happened again. “Mommy, tell me a story.”
I settled next to him. “What kind of story?”
“Um. Another kingdom story?”
“A kingdom? Hmm. What about a queendom? Does it have to be a king?”
That made him think. Grinning, he allowed that a queen would be just fine.
We talked about what was so special about this queen — she was also a wizard, decided Sam — and where she lived. A castle, duh. No, a rainbow castle! A rainbow castle with a big moat. That had a monster in it. A friendly monster. Who liked eating seaweed.