Making Up Stories

I used to love making up stories. When I was younger, and I'd go on the 4th of July beach vacations with my cousins, I remember cramming in a motel room by the ocean and making up stories. I'd tell them stories about princesses in the clouds, kingdoms just beyond our reach. I loved it. I didn't really write them down. Writing for me meant poetry (really lame, love-centered adolescent poetry) and journal entries.

Now that L is 31 months (aka 2.5 years old), I have found myself relishing in the creation of stories again. Even daddy has jumped on the story bandwagon. Every night, as part of L's bedtime routine, we make up stories. We used to read his books, but now we're making up stories. They usually involve a little boy and his adventures of going to the zoo, the beach, the park, and making friends. Or riding the train. Or meeting a dolphin. He loves them so much, that L has been adding his own parts to the stories. It's awesome.

Now, I've begun writing these stories down. I have one that I made up when he was an infant saved. Now I'm working of gathering the recent stories we've told. They're actually pretty good, I think. :) I want to remember them so I can retell them in the future, and in doing so, gather a collection. I don't know whether it'll amount to anything, but I can try.

The best part of it, though, is that every night, after bath time, L asks for us to tell him a story, and we put our thinking hats on and travel into a made-up world suitable for a 2.5-year-old.