Tonight the boys asked for a bedtime story. I hate telling bedtime stories. I like my stories to unfold gradually over months of agonizing over my laptop and then several more months agonizing over my revisions.
But I acquiesced. Here was that story:
“There once was a cat named…Zelda.”
“Was it a girl?”
“Yes. And she was in love with a skunk. Named…Ricardo.”
“Was it a boy?”
“Those are funny names.”
“Yes. Yes, they are.”
Then from the dining room, “What day is it?”
Then from the bedroom, “The fourth. April 4th.”
“Today is July 4th?”
“No, but it’s funny you say that because Zelda and Ricardo got married on July the 4th.”
“What were their last names?”
“Zelda’s last name was ‘Purple.’ No, ‘Magenta.’ Her last name was ‘Magenta.’ And Ricardo’s last name was ‘San Francisco.’”
Thinking about the procreation challenges between a skunk and a cat, I decided to bring in an example of an alternate family model. Zelda and Ricardo adopted a litter of crocodiles. And every 4th of July the Magenta-San Francisco family celebrated their parents anniversary by playing in a jumpy house.
(Now you know why my stories require lots of revisions.)