Yet again, we hear one of the stories that my daughter gets as a “treat” just before bed. Brace yourselves.
“Once upon a time there was a seagull and he was made of wood. He had trouble flapping his creaky wings and eating with his wooden beak. But the worst part was the termites. ‘I have a gnawing feeling…’ he said. THE END
CH: “That wasn’t a real story…I wanted a REAL story, a long one.”
Me: “Okay, I hope you’re ready for this next one!
Once upon a time there was a golden egg…
CH interrupting: “This doesn’t sound like a good story.”
“…and this egg talked ALL day. He kept chattering on and on and everyone put their hands on their ears and said, ‘Why won’t he stop talking! Sheesh!’ It wasn’t until later that they realized it wasn’t a golden egg, it was a speaker! Oooooh, spooky!”
THE END
CH: [thinking if she wants to ask for another story, then a long pause] “Babbo, can you go get my music?”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get a child to go to bed.
Writer, architect, father, husband.
Crunch, crunch, crunch go the termites. Yum, yum, yum!