Okay, you've read the title and you're agreeing -- kids are storytellers. You've raised 2 year olds, 5 year olds, 4 year olds and 1 year olds, and maybe even some teenagers, so you know they tell stories for different reasons, but I'll bet you're not gonna guess this one.
A five year old doesn't want to disappoint you, "I know how to zip my coat myself" while struggling to get the ends inserted. A one year doesn't know the difference, especially if he's still in the ma-ma da-da grunting stage. A 4 year old doesn't want disciplined for running over bubby's toes. And a 2 year old thinks if she says she didn't do it, you'll just believe her because she believes it her self.
They just dream it up!
And that's where we're at. They dreamed it up.
It started with flashlights. Yes, there are many flashlights in this house -- penlight, household, minature, mag lites --we have 'em.
When Jacob carries his black and yellow trimmed one around and drops it, it comes apart in 6 pieces --including the 2 batteries. When Alayna says, "Tooh heav-ee", we exchange her mag lite for a regular household silver one.
Now, these are grandkids, so as their grandma I have no clue where the idea comes from for them to set the stage by turning on their flashlights. They pressed them to their chins to light up their faces like creepers at a window! The flashlight lights up their nostrils, gives them black circles around their eyes, and makes their eyes look thin like slits over black orbs. Creepy.
After a long couple hours where they have gone from one interesting toy to another, you'd think with wings on their feet for extra speed, John and I are glad to sit and listen to these little storytellers.
Earlier at the supper table Alayna told us "When Jay was a baby-baby, a little baby, him crawl, him walk" and she goes back to slurping spaghetti noodles. (BTW, Jay's five and going to Kindergarten.).
Jay, not to be left out, "When I was three and a baby, to count I said, "Goo-goo, goo, goo, goo."
I'm sure he did!
As storytelling goes, the 3 year old girl, climbs 3 steps up the stairs, swings her arms 3 times, swi-ing, swi-ing, swi-ing, jumps off the step, lands on all fours, then when she pops up, she tells a big one, "It doesn't hurt."
We had a good half hour or so of playing hide and seek. THEY CAN'T HIDE WITHOUT GIGGLING! If we didn't fudge a little bit ourselves, there'd never be time spent on hunting toddlers, they're too, too easy to find! I instructed them several times, "No sounds, no gasping breaths, no giggles. Sit still; your clothes are making sounds. Don't push the couch out, grandpa will hear the scraping legs. Shhhhh."
But Jay couldn't stand it, he tells all, and loudly, "We're hiding in the living room!"
Back in the family room, grandparents taking a sit-down rest, grandkids excited and cross-talking with their flashlights poised, Jay begins.
"Once upon a time, I had to see what's up there. (Jay points to the stairwell.) It comes out in the night. Everybody has to go out. Out into the night. Catch Bigfoot! He boo-ed at me. He ate the others. We went running and he caught ME. And he pulled me down. And I shined a flashlight in his eyes. I save people."
He pauses ever so briefly, "Being brave was so good. The end."
LOL, being brave is good, very good! Even if to feel brave, you have to be a storyteller.
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