Tell Me A Story

One of Willow's more notable foibles since she learned to talk has been her insistence on narrating the world around her.

Willow: "'The wind blew the leaves sideways,' she exclaimed!"

Mommy: "Yes, honey, the wind did blow the leaves sideways."

Willow: "Her mommy replied."

Dave and I joke that the world is her novel, we just live in it.  It's a very charming and endearing trait, and I have never had cause to complain about it, and instead spend a lot of time patting myself on the back, thinking what a wonderful mother I am, that I read to her so often she sees the world as a book, and hey maybe one day she'll be a famous writer, and we'll live off her proceeds and she will thank me on every acknowledgements page and be so very very grateful that she'll buy me a house on some secluded mountain and send me boxes of books and chocolate.

But there has been an unanticipated, well, I hate to say flaw, because that would indicate that my plan isn't going to happen, and I'm not ready to give it up yet.  But certainly....annoyance.  I'm having to work a little harder for my boxes of chocolate than I thought, because now it's not just a matter of reading a lot of stories and explaining to confused children and adults that she's simply narrating what just happened...now I have to tell the stories instead of just reading them.

Which, fine.  I can tell a decent story.  I've read really a lot of fairy tales in my day, and I can concoct a well-plotted but simple and not overly wordy tale and invent it as I speak it.  This can be tiring, but it's not so much to ask.  Except that's not what's being asked.

Instead, Willow concocts the story.  (And I hate to sound all judgmental, but mine are way better.  They have a plot, more than one character, and something actually happens in them).  And then she asks me to re-tell it.  This may not sound annoying, but allow me to demonstrate:

Willow:  Tell me a story about how there was an owl named Peep who was a snowy owl and she was a girl owl and she flew all around Honeysuckle Hollow and through the trees and above the leaves and across the branches and down the colored road and all around.  Tell me that story.  Tell me a long story!

Mommy:  Okay.  Once upon a time there was a little owl named Peep.  She was a beautiful snowy owl.  She lived in Honeysuckle Hollow.  She loved to fly all around her hollow--she would fly through the trees and land on the branches and her wings would brush through the leaves and she would fly over the colored road.  It made her very happy to fly so far and so fast.  The end.

Willow: No, tell me a long story about how there was an owl named Peep who was a snowy owl and she was a girl owl and she flew all around Honeysuckle Hollow and through the trees and above the leaves and across the branches and down the colored road and all around.  Tell me that story.  Tell me a long story!

Mommy: Okay.  (Thinks for a moment.  Hits upon The Ugly Duckling).  Once upon a time there was a little owl named Peep.  She was just a baby owl living with a family of great horned owls, but as she got older her mommy and daddy owl realized that she wasn't a great horned owl after all--she was a snowy owl.   They were so surprised to learn that they had a snowy owl living with them, but they loved Peep so much that of course they wanted her to stay with them always...

Willow: No!  Tell me a story about how there was an owl named Peep who was a snowy owl and she was a girl owl and she flew all around Honeysuckle Hollow and through the trees and above the leaves and across the branches and down the colored road and all around.  Tell me that story.  Tell me a long story!  It's a very long story!

Mommy: Uh.  A long story just about that?  Okay.  Once upon a time there was an owl named Peep.  She was a snowy owl, and she was so glad to be a snowy owl.  Her feathers were white and speckled with brown spots and she had such a funny call for an owl.  She would say, kackackackack screech! kackackackack, and her call would echo all over Honeysuckle Hollow, which was where she lived.  It was a very warm place for a snowy owl to live, but she liked it there.  She loved to fly through the trees, because there aren't any trees in the tundra, where snowy owls normally live.  She loved the way the leaves would hit her wings, and she loved being able to land on a branch and see all of Honeysuckle Hollow from so high up.  Then she would swoop down and fly along the colored road--because the road in Honeysuckle Hollow has lots of different colors.  Red, and blue, and green, and yellow, and she would fly all down that road and then zoom up into the trees again.  She would fly and fly and fly and fly.  The end.  Did you like that story?

Willow: Yes.  Tell me that story again.

And again.  For an hour.