My mom visited us in Maryland recently and put in a lot of quality time with her grandkids. Our boys were with her all day, and she would be the one to put them to bed at night. The boys asked her for a story, so she told them a story. Not a fairy tale, or some Russian folk tale, or anything from a book. She just made it up.
As I sat at the bottom of the stairs listening to my mom tell my boys a story, I suddenly remembered hearing the same stories when I was a young boy as well. Not from a book. Never repeated. She just made then up a new story for me. Every night. Probably for a good 5-7 years,
It’s not that I forgot this. The memory was clear in my head. Her sitting next to me on the bed. Telling the story. With a new character and a new plot every night. I didn’t think it was anything special as a kid. Or really up until that moment listening to her make up a story on the spot for my boys. But it was. It was incredible. How did she do that? How did she keep it going for all those years? And how did she make up a new story line every night. I don’t know any other parents who do that. But she did. It was 30+ years ago, and I still remember some of those stories.
They were simple stories. No big plot or moral tale. The main character, usually a “little” car, plane, elephant, etc had some dilemma, and they had to resolve it creatively, or by talking to someone or asking for help.
For example in one story, and again I heard this once one night when I was 6 and I can’t believe I still remember it, a little car has a problem with the big trucks on the road. Because the car was so little, the trucks would not let it pass them on the road. So the little car had an idea. It waited till night, and then put some planks on itself with lights at the ends. Lots of lights sticking far out. So… when it drove at night, it looked like a big big truck with lots of lights. So when the other trucks saw it in the darkness, the other trucks thought it was a truck as well and let it go through.
Its not Ferdinand the Bull, but for an on the spot story its great. Ingenuity and inventiveness for the win. And she made up thousands of these. For me. No one else has ever heard them. But as a little boy I got to go to sleep every night with an original story just for me. Its not that she was always a stellar parent, but this was something above and beyond. And I can only imagine the effect it had on my appreciation of stories, and inventive solutions.
……….
Tonight, up in their room, my boys asked me for a bed time story. I wanted to tell them that it was too late, or that Gabby already read to them, so that was enough…… but I didn’t. For some reason I agreed to tell them a story. If my mom could do it… then I could do it. So as I tucked in each boy I desperately tried to make up a story. And I did. And here it is. My first story. And I have no idea where it came from.
……..
There was once a little balloon. It liked to fly around and say hello to all the animals. And the more air it had inside, the higher it could fly. But if it had too little air, it would get lower and lower and could not fly that well anymore.
One day the little balloon was flying around and having fun when it noticed that it was almost out of air. It needed someone to blow more air into it. So it went to find some animal to help blow it back up.
First the little balloon it found an ant eater. The anteater had a perfect long nose for blowing up balloons. So little balloon asked the anteater for help. But the anteater said “Sorry – I am too busy eating ants. I am very hungry and I cant help you right now. Come back later.”
So the little balloon flew some more and a whale. Whales have a blow hole, and they can blow a lot of air all at once. So the little balloon asked the whale to help blow it up. “Sorry” said the whale, “I am too busy diving to find krill. I cant blow you up right now. Maybe come back later.”
The little balloon had to keep on looking. Finally it found an elephant. Now elephant have a trunk that can blow a lot of air, its perfect for blowing up balloons. So the little balloon asked the elephant, “Please Mr. Elephant, could you use your trunk to give me some air.” But the elephant replied, “No sorry, I am too busy trying to remember something. I have no time to blow up balloons.”
The little balloon was very sad. No one was helping it. And it was almost out of air. So it decided to do something clever. It came back to the elephant and said “Oh Mr. Elephant, I think there is some dirt at the tip of your trunk. Would you like me to clean it off for you, before the other elephants see that you have a dirty trunk?”
“Oh… Yes, please.” said the elephant. “I definitely don’t want any dirt on my trunk.” So the little balloon got real close to the tip of the elephants trunk and it pretended to clean of the dirt. But what it was really doing was using its string to tickle the tip of the elephant’s trunk. And it tickled. And tickled. Until the elephant got ready to sneeze. And the little balloon put its end to the trunk, so when the elephant sneezed it got blown up with lots and lots of air. And it could fly nice and high again.
……….
What the moral of this story?
If people refuse to help you, you can use their insecurities to trick them into doing what you need.
Yeah… Not great. Might need to work on the messaging. But the boys loved it. And there was something magical about telling them a story that no other kid had heard before. Making it up on the spot, fleshing out the plot as I went along. Feeling their attention in the darkness. And giving back some of that creative love that I got from my mom.
I am genuinely tempted to do it again. Although I have no idea how I am going to pull it off. I might need to start pre-making bed time story plots through the day. And maybe reusing some of the stories from my mom. But… it is doable.
If my mom could do it in the Soviet Union, with all the crap and stresses that were in her life, I can do it peaceful suburbia.
I can tell them a story. And I will think of my mom.