Last post of the day, I promise.
So, even when we don't read a single book during the day, we always tell stories at bedtime. Usually UberDad does the honors first, and then the boys add their own. Despite my childhood dream of being a novelist, I'm usually storyless. *sigh* Anyhow, for the last few months, Grouper, our 3yo, has told the same basic story each time it's his turn. It goes like this:
"Once upon a time, there were two boys, and a monster came and ATE THEM!" Then he giggles hysterically and announces, "That's a NIGHTMARE!"
But over the last week, he's been reworking the plot. Today, he called me in to the bathroom, where he had been developing his story as he sat on the pot. "I have a story to tell you," he said. "Once upon a time, there were two boys. And the two boys went to bed. And a monster came, and ATE THEM. Then the monster spit them out, because their heads were too hard. And he didn't chew them. So the boys were okay. The End."
Had to get that on record, just in case I never manage to scrapbook it.