During our cross-county Caravan ride, I held a backseat storytelling hour, where I would attempt to make up stories to amuse the girls. It worked. The stories were quite ridiculous (just ask Moose how he feels about the laughing birds), but the girls were mesmerized.
Once we had returned home where our bookshelves and local library offer a plethora of actual stories, I unofficially retired from “storytelling.” That is until last week when for unknown reasons, Ava remembered that I could tell stories and promptly demanded one:
“Tell me a story, Mama. Tell me a story about a cat. Okay, I’m ready.”
Glad to know your ready, Ava. Let me begin.
And so we have spend many hours over the past week reliving the adventures of cats, dogs, ducks, birds, pillows, sheep, and Uncle Moose.
Yesterday, she asked me again to tell her a story. I asked her what she wanted the story to be about, and she replied, “Jesus.”
“Oh, I do know some stories about Jesus!” I replied and we snuggled onto the couch for the story after story about Jesus.
