When Christian was a kid, his mother used to tell him stories about “walking in the woods.” He started telling them to Alex about the time we moved to this house, and they’ve become a big part of our nightly bedtime ritual. Neither Christian nor his mother remember much about the stories she told, but ours have developed into a pattern, structured around the woods behind our house.
Once there was a little boy named Alex, who wanted to take a walk in the woods. So he ran down the hill and waded through the tall grass to the edge of the woods…
They almost all involve a nap in the woods, and Alex always comes back to tell his mommy, who is making dinner, what he did in the woods. Generally they end with some sort of meal and going to bed.
Last night, my throat was questionable, so Alex told me a walking in the woods story. “Once, there was a little boy named…Bob!”
“Bob!” I exclaimed.
He giggled. “Yeah, BOB! Bob…Dixon! Bob Dixon Basi! And he decided he wanted to take a walk in the woods. So he ran down the hill, but there wasn’t any tall grass, and then he heard…chop chop chop. And then he heard….ding ding ding! And he realized it was Santa Claus—and a helicopter!”
At that point, I knew I was in for a long one. Ah, my little storyteller, how you grow! J
