Stories

I never realized what a huge part of life stories are.  It seems to me that people are either listening to a story or telling a story.  That movie you just saw - a story.  The conversation you had with a family member about your vacation - a story.  When you call your utility company about some sort of customer service issue, you're telling a story.  They're everywhere.  Living life with a 3 year old is no different, although the stories sometimes are a big more fantastical.  Just a touch.

Logan has taken to telling stories lately.  I find them endlessly fascinating.  He will ask a question about something and after I answer, he will say, "tell a story about it."  I used to tell a story and he would smile and giggle (he's a terrific audience) the whole way through.  Recently though, after I start telling a story about whatever topic he's interested in, HE will finish it.  There's a lot of "and then..." and the stories are quite long.  I sometimes ask questions about what's happening in the story (always the interruptor) to clarify in my head what's going on.  When he feels the story has run its course, he usually turns to me and says, "mama, tell a story about it."  

The other day he told a story that I found so interesting, I wrote it down and wanted to share it here.  A little bit of background info first.  Maisy is a mouse.  He has multiple Maisy books, videos and a Maisy doll.  She and her cohorts will probably make many appearances here.  The bedrail is a device we have attached to the bed so Logan doesn't roll off the bed in the middle of the night.

Here's the story as I remember it:

Maisy has a hat on.  Oh, her hat just fell through the bedrail but Maisy couldn't fit.  Her head is too big.  Oh, Maisy is getting smaller and smaller. (Me: she's shrinking?) Yeah, she's shrinking.  She has a mushroom on her head.  Now she's getting bigger and bigger and her hat fits.  Now she's snuggles with her family.