Every night I would tell my kids stories. They are all grown up now, but they still remember their favorites. Sometimes I’d paint images from the stories on their bedroom walls. The Great Big Powerful Mouseking had a little door painted on the skirting boards (baseboards). The unicorn that saved them from the giant spiders was painted under a rainbow. The Royal chef’s massive block of cheese was a foot high in the center of their room… and much discussed by visiting parents.
I would have cliff hangers every night too… “And Rose opened the bog of magix and you’ll never guess what she found there ! It was … a great… big … giant… and that’s all we have time for tonight.”
AH BUT DAAAAAD!
I miss my kids being little… but then again, they don’t hide secret piles of meat under their pillows any more so there’s that blessing. There is a myth that we lose our imaginations as we grow, but I believe our imaginations grow with us… if you feed it. They both became little story tellers and I can see the seed of the stories grew within them to make them very imaginative women…