In Which I Engage In Competitive Storytelling With My Son And He Totally Wins.

Leo, my six-year-old juvenile-delinquent Kindergartener, has bested his mama at Stories. Look, I can admit when I’ve been beat. It takes a big man – or woman, in my case – to concede the fight. Leo! You win!

Here’s what happened:

This morning, at the breakfast table, Leo was begging for pancakes and I was avoiding pancake-making. So I picked up a folded piece of paper from the table and held it up like a book. I peered at my son over the rim of the paper and cleared my throat.

“Once upon a time,” I said, “there was a boy named Leo who met a magical bunny. He asked the magical bunny for some pancakes, but the magical bunny said that pancakes had ceased to exist. So Leo had cereal instead and was filled with happiness. The end.”

I put down the paper with a smack and raised my eyebrows. Leo picked it up. Cleared his throat.

“Once upon a time,” he said, “there was a girl named mommy who went into a deep, dark forest looking for a magical bunny. She was chased by the Knights Who Say, “Ni!” and then was eaten by wolves. The magical bunny turned itself into a pancake. The end.”

He slapped the paper onto the table and folded his arms with a grin. I picked up the paper, opened it up, and started to read.

“Once upon a time there was a boy named Leo who found a pancake in a deep, dark, forest. He was about to eat it but the pancake started to cry, because it was secretly the magical bunny. Leo screamed and ran out of the forest where he was captured by the Knights Who Say Ni, who forced him to purchase a shrubbery. The end.”

Leo guffawed. I was on the ropes and he knew it. He approached the table at a swagger and picked up the paper.

“Once upon a time there was a girl named mommy whose eyeball fell out of her head and onto the floor. It stayed on the floor for one year where it rotted. Then, Leo picked up the eyeball and threw it into the trash, and it exploded. The end.”

He cackled.

I picked up the paper.

“Once upon a time,” I said, “there was a magical fairy princess who came to a boy named Leo in a pink cloud. ‘Leo,’ she said, ‘I did not like the story about your mommy’s eyeball one bit. I am going to turn you into a toad.’ And so the fairy princess turned Leo into a toad and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.”

“Hmph,” Leo said. He picked up the paper.

He stared at me over the paper’s edge. His eyes narrowed. He cleared his throat.

“Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit,” he said, “ribbit, ribbit, ribbit. Ri-bbit.”


AAAAAANNNND, that’s Leo for the WIN. Nice work, buddy!

3 thoughts on “In Which I Engage In Competitive Storytelling With My Son And He Totally Wins.

  1. Haha! Hope he got pancakes for that.

    Let’s meet for coffee sometime! (I feel like I said this before, and I did, but this is a response to your response) But let’s wait till after break.

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