Storytelling

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Dear Holly: Your 3rd Halloween, This Time as a Ladybug

2 and a half years old.

Dear Holly,

During the past week leading up to Halloween this year, your brother and I kept reminding you, “Okay, Holly, if you want to get candy, you have to wear your ladybug costume…”

Therefore, you practiced wearing it every couple of days, just to get a good feel for it.

We went on to teach you the secret special phrase, “Happy Halloween!”

You grasped the concept quite easily.

Your brother even made a special deal with you right before we went trick-or treating, that he would give you his chocolate candy if you would give him your sour candy.

At each new door in our neighborhood, you proudly smiled and said those magical words…

One neighbor even gave you an extra pack of M&M’s, simply because of your cuteness factor, after he already gave you two other packs.

And no, the Mickey Mouse Band-Aid on your favorite wasn’t because of a cut. That was just you being you.

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Teaching Your Sister to Say “Bad Words”, But Not in Context

7 years, 11 months.

Dear Jack,

I’ve recently discovered that when Mommy and I aren’t closely paying attention, like while we are doing the dishes, you discreetly teach your sister “bad words”, as if it’s your obligation as her older brother.

“Holly… butt cheek.”

She will then repeat it and confirm she knows it’s a new word she shouldn’t say:

“Butt cheek.”

Then she grins with gratitude.

However, she doesn’t quite understand the context of most of the Disney-approved bad words you have been teaching her.

That’s why it’s not out of the ordinary for her to casually say, “I want a cheese stick… butt cheek.”

I’m sure in time, though, you’ll be able to teach her how to say these inappropriate phrases a little more appropriately.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: You are Trying So Hard to Have Legitimate Conversations But…

2 and a half years old.

Dear Holly,

Last Sunday while you were playing with your brother’s toys in his bedroom while Mommy sorted out his closet, you took it upon yourself to create a story line.

You swung your purse over your shoulder then grabbed your brother’s poop emoji stuffed animal, then enthusiastically yet routinely announced, “Hey Poop, want to go to church?… Yeah?… Okay, let’s go!”

From there, you pretended to load up Poop in the car for the ride to church.

And yesterday as I was driving you to school, I said, “Look Holly! Those men are putting a new roof on that house!”

Seeing the apparent fun of being able to walk on top of a house, you proclaimed, “I want to walk on the roof for my Christmas.”

In your mind, these scenarios are completely realistic.

That’s good enough for me.

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Your Ghost Tour Field Trip in Downtown Franklin, Tennessee near Mellow Mushroom

7 years, 11 months.

Dear Jack,

Yesterday was quite an adventure for you. As part of your school’s enrichment program this week for fall break, you got to go on a “ghost tour” with your friends.

A tour guide hopped on your school bus in the nearby town of Franklin, and told everyone ghost stories that apparently took place in those old buildings downtown; near Mellow Mushroom, actually.

Needless to say, last night’s dinner conversations were monopolized by you amazingly recalling every detail of each ghost story you heard.

Ghost soldiers from The Civil war in the basement of the old bank.

Ghost dogs in the yard.

Ghost owls in the barn.

So while I did feel kind of bad about you having to be at school when school was actually out for fall break, I quickly realized that going on a ghost tour was probably more fun than staying home would have been anyway.

Just watch out for those ghost cows at night, mooing in the field behind our house.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: The Purple Popsicle Incident

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Holly,

Last night during dinner, you willingly ate all of the food Mommy had put on your plate, but you also made it clear throughout dinner that you had an agenda.

I heard you keep optimistically muttering, “I get purple Popsicle…”

This is an idea you crafted on your own. No one had even been talking about the frozen grape juice treats in the freezer.

But I suppose you had caught a glimpse of them at some point while Mommy was making dinner.

After finishing all the food on your plate, without saying a word, you just hopped out of your chair, ran over to the freezer, and brought me the Popsicle to unwrap for you.

No words were needed.

You know me. You know how to negotiate.

It was fair deal: Eat all your dinner, then just correctly assume I’ll let you have a Popsicle without any fuss.

You finished about half of your treat before you had your fill. Not to mention, you got a little concerned with you looked down and announced, “Oh no! Boo boo!”

I then explained that it was just part of the Popsicle that had dripped down on your leg.

You had become a purple mess.

Love,

Daddy