“One day….”

A few days ago me and my little boy (who is becoming a man right before my eyes) had one of those days where you collapse into bed physically exhausted, but so mentally stimulated it’s impossible to let the day go and sleep.  We didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, or spectacular.  In fact, it was rather normal, really.  At 8:30 that night I allowed my son to crawl into my big bed, where he curled his lanky body around mine, and started talking about every single thing.  I let him go on like that for forty-five minutes.  Forty-five minutes of precious time I could have used for sleep.  Or homework. Or folding laundry.  Forty-five minutes of precious time he could have had for an extra chapter of “The Secret Garden”, or an extra episode of “How it’s Made.”  I asked him to tell me the story of his day, and it went something like this:

(I’m grateful for my obsession with documenting his life.  It may drive people batty at times, but I don’t regret it…not for one second.)

(This is all dictated by Rowan, so don’t get after me for bad grammar!!)

“Once upon a time, there was a boy who didn’t want to do school, but he had to do it anyway, because Mommy said so.  She says Rowan has to have a good attitude. (He’s usually pretty good about school, but lately he has perfected the exasperated sigh, and the annoyed eye roll.  Heck no, boy.  You don’t get to use those moves on me until you’re at least 10!  We’re working on a little character training, so hopefully I can help him think of less rude way to deal with his displeasure.  When he DOES have a peaceful heart, he can churn out papers like these:)

After Rowan is done with school, he likes to play cowboy.  The holster rubs on my hips, so I wear it without pants.  Cowboys could run so much faster without pants on.  Why didn’t they think of that?

Then Mom says that we’re going to the doctor’s, so I have to wear clothes.  She said if I went to the doctor’s naked, my buns would get chilly.  So Rowan got dressed.

Mom said Rowan could wear his cowboy gear when we went out, but he thought people might be scared that the cowboy would yell, “YEE-HAW!!!” really loudly, and I don’t think they all would bring headphones to block it out.  Rowan thought he should leave his cowboy stuff at home, so he did.

Then they went to the doctors.  Rowan wore his doctor shirt so he could fool people.  They all thought he was a doctor and let him play with their equipment.  He also took all the candy and suckers they give to the good kids.  Doctors are allowed to do that, you know.

So the doctors didn’t take as long as Mommy thought they would so she said we had time to go through the car wash.  Did you know the car wash is really a secret cave filled with pink and yellow jewels?  It really is!

Okay, after the mom and the boy get their car clean, they go have lunch with Rowan’s best friend.  His name is Avery, and he’s a little baby.  I can hold his hand while he walks, and I can make him laugh really hard.  I really love him.

Then Avery and Rowan got in the car together and drove to the park.  Avery had never been to a park before, so Rowan had to teach him all about slides and swings.

Avery got soooo tired from all his laughing, so he had to go home and take a nap.  I was upset that he had to go home, but Mommy told me that we could play together again soon.  I wasn’t so sad after I heard that.

Me and mommy went to do some Christmas shopping, and we had a snack.  Then we went for a bike ride with my other best friend, Beth.  Mommy and Beth can be friends too.  We had to wait for Beth to come to the trail, so while we waited, Rowan showed his Mommy the trail map.  She’s bad with directions (I really, really am), but I’m not.

Beth finally came to the trail, and I rode on the bumpy trail for like, TEN MILES! (okay, it was probably a little over one, but for being such a sandy and rocky trail, I’m sure it felt like 10 miles to him.)

At the very end the little boy got tired of pedaling, so his friend helped him push his bike to the car.

The mom and the boy went home after that and ate a huge dinner.  The mom was exhausted, but the boy wanted to play some more!

The End.”

Big House

It’s fairly obvious that I love to write.  I’m not particularly good at it.  I don’t have an impressive vocabulary, my grammar isn’t perfect, and my thoughts are often jumbled and choppy.  Don’t even get me started on my spelling!  There’s just something to be said for translating your own thoughts onto paper(or a computer screen) in a way that is uniquely yours.  If you think about it, the probability of someone else writing down the exact same sequence of words that you have, is nill. 

Instead of reading a book to Rowan during his bedtime routine, sometimes I’ll tell him a story.  It could be a classic-Little Red Riding Hood, Peter Rabbit,  or the Three Little Pigs.  Other times I make up a story.  Usually the main character is a blond little boy, around the age of two, and the plot revolves around the little blond boy riding a train, or driving a bulldozer.  There is not usually a twist or hidden surprise in these stories.  They are simple and to the point, and he loves them! 

As a result of telling Rowan these stories, he has started to tell his own.  This morning he brought me a pen and told me to write it down.  (The night before I had said to Rowan that I need to start writing our stories down)

This is Rowan’s story:

“Big House”

by Rowan Gabriel Dalenberg

Age 2 years and 4 months

 

 I’m going to build a house.  It will have 1-2-3 bedrooms.  Mommy, Rowan, and Ezra will live there.  It will be big all the way to the top!  It will be orange.  There will be a little one playroom with a big tent.  Huge!  There will be big books!  Much books! 1-2-3-2 books!  It will have a kitchen and a stove.  I can cook eggs and eat cranberries.

Leighton will come visit me.  Brother Lincoln too!  And Leighton’s mommy.  We will play toys.  We will play with Leighton’s toys.  We will knock over a tower, and clean it up.  Then they go.

Then Rowan goes sleepies.  Mama tells a story.  Rowan holds a taggie and goes night-night.

~The End~

 

At a few points during the telling of this story he got stuck.  I would ask him a question or two to get  him thinking about what happened next, and he would take off, chatting a mile a minute.  I’m proud of Rowan.  He spent a lot of time thinking about this story.  I followed him around as he told it, feeling like a reporter trying to get the scoop. 

 It was fascinating to watch the wheels turn, witness the story develop, and his reaction to me reading it back to him when he was finished was priceless!  “Good story, Mama!  Big, big good!”