Remixing bedtime stories

My love of words stems from a childhood love of reading that was instilled by my mother and  primary school teachers. I’m that kid that skipped class at 7 years old to hide in the library and read books all day. It’s the foundation for my love of writing and poetry, my self expression, and what I consider to be my best trait (ok aside from my great ass, lol) which is my ability to convey ideas, and the trait I find most impressive in other people, which is people who are articulate.

It’s also the reason I’m a low key grammar nazi, and why most of my favorite authors are children’s authors, and poets. SO… instilling a love of reading in my kids is paramount to me. And it makes me obsess over how much screen time they get and it makes me continually force paperback books down their young throats.

So I’ll read to them at bedtime, and make my older one read to me before and after school. Which I can tell they absolutely enjoy because I force them to. Lol So lately, a bedtime ritual we’ve been enjoying is that the girls want me to tell them a story. And I have taken to this with WAY too much gusto. I love it because:

1. It allows me to use my narrator voice, which I am not ashamed to say, is pretty darn good. LOL. I sound like a Primary school teacher with all the intonations and I make all the character & animal sounds because, is there any other way to tell a story? I sometimes take it too far, like tonight Lili looked at me strangely and asked: “Mom why are you whispering?” I’m in character, dammit!

2. I find myself changing the plot to fairy tales (i.e. remixing them) because I’ve realized the stories just don’t make sense. Like what really was the point of Goldilocks breaking and entering, and wreaking havoc at the bears house? So they could wake her up and she could run away? LAME. My 6 year old changed the ending and said that the bears told her it was ok to stay, they'd get a new chair, and then Papa Bear went and made them all more porridge. My favorite part about her ending is that she decided the Daddy bear was the one to go and cook more food. Lol. That’s my girl, flipping stereotypes at age six.

So, tonight, I told “Little Red Riding Hood” and made the following “edits”.

1. Little Red wore a blood red “cape” not a hood, because bad asses wear capes, not hoods. Only burglars and executioners wear hoods.

2. At the end of the story, Little Red and her Grandma kung fu kicked the wolf’s ass before sending it running for its life. After which they then sat down to enjoy the lunch of sushi, tiramisu and deep fried ice cream that Little Red brought to share. And then they ordered extra desserts via UberEats.

So I was so impressed with my version that I realized after I’d finished telling it that the kids were fast asleep, one on my stomach and the other in my arm. I think they probably fell asleep before Red arrived to Grandma’s house, but that’s ok, they’re asleep! (WooHoo!) I will take that as a sign that my voice was so soothing it lulled them to sleep, not that my story telling was so boring it was snore-worthy. Lol. Yes, let’s go with that.

Good night, world!


Tupe Crawley said…
I don't know why, but this makes me emotional. Love your blogs cuz <3
Tupe Crawley said…
I don't know why, but this makes me emotional. Your blogs are life. Thanks cuz <3