February 4, 2012

The kids have a lot to say before bed.

One speaks with the authority of an architect about the tower he's designing with friends in a fantastical online realm.

Another tells of her snowman so tall she needed a ladder to set the hat on top.

One unfolds a giant robot from the folder in his backpack, a dozen or more pieces of construction paper taped together at the seams.

And my littlest recreates the twists and turns of his marble track with sign language that could knock something over.

Each one is building something amazing. And they fight hard against the forces that conspire against them. Sometimes the enemy is make believe, a monster trapped in a video game or their own imaginations. Sometimes, the enemy is as real as gravity, or is gravity . . . pulling down snowballs, interfering with flight. Sometimes the enemy blows in like wind from far away and sometimes the enemy is as close as a little brother toppling block towers.

They are the heroes of their stories, overcoming the mountains and the dragons that rise up in their paths. By what miracle do I get to be the first reader of their tales?

Just last night, my six year-old strung together story after story, like beads on a cord. He told about his day, the words that stung, the words that blessed, the races won and lost and sometimes run alongside a friend. He told of plans and dreams, a gift for his brother's birthday and a play date with a new friend. He asked about heaven and what we would have for breakfast the next day.

And then he said, “What would you say if I'm just telling you all these stories to keep you here snuggling?”

I thought of all the reasons we tell stories. And I thought of Arabian Nights, the stringing together of stories to stay alive.

But I told my story teller that I like to snuggle. And that he's not the first to use that trick. I told him I've done the same thing.

“But I'm not, Mom. I'm not just telling you all this to keep you snuggling. I really need to tell you all these things.”

Then it's a double blessing, I said. Because I love the stories and I love the snuggling.