The Littlest Storyteller

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Okay, so I love my kids' creative minds and wild imaginations. Ace especially has a WILD one. She makes up tons of crazy, outlandish stories, full of vivid details, and delivers them quite convincingly. Many times, by the end of her stories, she has me so engaged and interested that I forget she is making the whole darn thing up. 

Some of her stories start to border on flat out lies though. She will tell things to other people and then tell them, "but don't tell my mom, she wasn't there so she doesn't know..." (It usually gets back to me, against her sweet four-year old request.) Like a couple of months ago I walked up on a conversation Ace was having with a friend of mine. I didn't hear anything, but she had that "busted" look on her face, and I knew that she had been telling one of her stories. So I asked what they were talking about and my friend said, "oh she was just telling me how she got this bobo on her leg...." (She had a little scratch.) I asked how exactly that was... At this point Ace was looking at my friend with bug eyes like "please don't rat me out." But my friend proceeded to tell me that Ace said she had a Tinkerbell knife that she kept under her pillow at night, and that she had gotten cut with it. Oh and when asked where she got the Tinkerbell knife, she told my friend she had gotten it from her Gigi (her great grandma, my grandma). 

She insisted to me that she indeed did have a Tinkerbell knife that Gigi gave her, but that I just didn't know about it because it was a secret. (Don't worry Gigi, I know you would never give weapons to my kids.) I highly doubt that a Tinkerbell knife even exists. 

We talk a lot about telling the truth. We talk about how it is okay to make up stories, but that after the story is finished we need to admit that it was just a story and not the truth. She knows the difference, but she sure does convince herself, and often me, that she is telling the truth. 

Sometimes her stories really get the rumor mill started though. She often tells people that we are "getting a new sister/brother". She told her teachers last year that "Daddy's going to the orphanage this weekend to get my big sister and bring her home." After school one of them pulled me aside and quietly asked me, "are yall adopting again?" I was like, "umm not anytime soon!" And then she told me what Ace had shared with her and the other teachers. Awesome. 

Then at Sunday School one day they made wreaths with cutout hands and the names of their family written on them. Here is Ace's:

She told her teachers that Sally was her new sister that we just got. They were confused to say the least. I mean this kid is freakishly convincing. 

Then there are the "brothers and sisters" who actually live with us. They are imaginary siblings. Well, the baby, Kate, is technically a doll, but the others are imaginary. There's Kate the baby, Alex the big brother, Annie the big sister, and Mila, the other big sister. (Oh but don't worry, Ace assured me that "even though her name is Mila, she still speaks English"). Thanks for the clarification, I was concerned about the possibility of a language barrier. 

So I have been going along with this whole thing for a while. But it is seriously starting to feel like I have four other kids. Sometimes she needs me to discipline one of the big kids for not sharing with her, or for yelling at her. Of course Baby Kate needs full time attention. Ace insists on brushing her teeth twice a day and feeding her regularly. I have even bought things for her at the store. Yes, I have. This is not a joke. 

Other ridiculous things I have done (or do on a regular basis) for the imaginary sisters and brother: 
Hold doors open at various places (often public places) for an extra long time so that they can all walk through. 
Moved seats because it was one of the siblings spots.
Gotten extra drinks for them.
Scolded the older ones. (and was really pretty serious about it)
Put them in time out. 
Put a "baby show" on TV because that's what Kate loves. 
Sang lullabies to Baby Kate to help her sleep. 

Here are two songs Ace wrote about Kate. According to Ace, she "was first in a orphanage, then got in mommy's tummy, then we went and picked her up at the hospital."

Oh, and in case you were wondering, she is dead serious with these songs. She is not kidding. And she thinks she is so good. (Of course I do too and I tell her she's the best singer ever, so that could be part of it...).

So I am trying to figure out how to balance this whole thing. I thought it was going to be one of those quick phases that would pass, but I do not see the light at the end of the tunnel with this one. Of course, like I said, I love her imagination and ability to create such detailed stories, but come on, where do I draw the line? I feel like one day I am going to snap and scream, "there is no Alex or Mila or Annie, and Baby Kate is just a freaking doll!!!" No, I would never really do that. But I do it in my head most days. 

Life with Ace. Gotta love it.

Lots of Love!


Anonymous said...

LISA! First of all, I love, love, love reading your blog. So honest and just so you!

Ok this post almost freaks me out because it feels like I'm reading about Chelsi in kindergarten through 2nd grade. Seriously. I'm sure my mom would have some tips... You can rest assured that Chelsi turned out (pretty) normal :)


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