Cozily laying in bed with my four year old little girl after her nap, I started the story like this: “So this little boy had a big dog that no one liked because it was ugly in everybody’s eyes. But the little boy did not see him like that. All he saw every time he looked at his dog was how much fun they had together every day. So…”
She picked up the story and told us about the games they played in the back yard, and the ball that he popped, and his tongue licking water. And then it was my turn again.
Our story lasted about 20 minutes, and our little boy and his dog wound up facing a bear, and a fairy princess, and a castle and a river, and a football, Africa and China. We giggled and almost cried and made the world big and tall and scary and beautiful and exciting. And her eyes, they were twinkling with pleasure. And my heart, it was bursting with joy.
And now she is all grown-up, my little girl. Over the years, life taught her that the world is big and tall and scary and beautiful and exciting. And she grew up strong, filled with grace and courage and dreams.
At times, in the early evening, we sit together in our sun room and I begin a story. “So, there was this tree, and…”
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