Lately, before I put Whimzy down for bed, we "talk".
It is an effort to work on her speech skills and to calm her down for bed.
It is mostly talking about Christmas and me trying to explain to her that Santa doesn't come for her birthday.
Tonight, I decided to switch it up a bit. Laying on our super comfy couch, with her head on my shoulder, I asked her to tell me a story. At first, she was confused, so I went first. My first story was about a squirrel who wanted to be different so he colored himself purple.
For Whimzy's turn, she decided that same squirrel would be rainbow.
We went back and forth for a bit, her stories mostly being variations on mine.
But, then, out of nowhere, she came up with her own story! It took some coaxing and question asking, but it was her own story, and here it is (keep in mind that I did some editing so that it is in complete sentences, but the gist of the story is all her!):
Once upon a time there was a family of duckies, a mommy duck, a daddy duck, and a little girl duck.
The little girl duck wanted to play hide and seek with her Daddy duck.
She got to hide first.
She found a goose and hid on his tail.
Daddy duck could not find her until she quacked.
Daddy duck knew it was her because the goose would have honked, not quacked.
Yes, everybody, that is my daughter for you! Also, there was a story about a rainbow monkey eating a tree and a giraffe getting mad at the monkey for eating his tree, at which point Whimzy asked if she could have a banana.
These are the nights, the stories, and the moments that I hope I remember forever.
And no, I don't think the story has a moral, unless of course you want to read into my 3-year old's mind and come up with a deep meaning to this ducky story. In fact, I encourage it! Find the moral or meaning to this story!
Post in the comments ;)