So I decided to tell William a story today after I had exhausted my supply of old Bible School and Montreat songs (sadly, I can't remember all the words to many of them.) I figured, I've sung to him, I've read to him, and I've talked to him. Why not tell him a story?
So I cast about for ideas. I wasn't feeling creative, so I figured, tell him a story that someone else came up with and hit on "The Three Little Pigs." Well, they really should offer a refresher course on songs, nursery rhymes, and children's stories for people like me because I told him what is quite possibly the worst rendition ever of "The Three Little Pigs." I couldn't remember what the three little pigs built their houses out of! I remembered the straw, and of course, I remembered the brick since it was what defeated the big bad wolf, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of what the second little piggy built his house out of. I finally decided that William wouldn't know if I was making things up, so I just said, "Dirt! The second pig built his house out of dirt." About the only parts of the story I really did remember were "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!" (which I acted out) and "Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin." Of course, I'm not really sure I said those parts in the right order, but I digress. I never could think of what that blasted second pig used to build his silly house.
David immediately said, "Sticks. He built his house out of sticks" when I casually asked him if he happened to know what the pig built his house from. Geez. Why did he remember this and I was the one who completely blanked out? I guess that David does try to keep up with what's current with the preschool set, given his job and all, but that tends to run more along the lines of Blue's Clues and Dora the Explorer these days.
And whose bright idea was it to have a story about pigs building houses anyway? Stupid fairy tales.
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