Once upon a time, I use to tell some pretty dang awesome bedtime stories to my children.
That's right. Not awesome, day-ang awesome.
Just so we're clear.
Like my best-seller, "The Princess and the Troll Part 1 and Part 2." Never mind that I haven't told a story that
They were full blown masterpieces! Not to be confused with the questionable ones Hubby comes up with.
Like this one about a frog getting squished and eaten. Never mind that clearly his was the favorite story among you adults.
But I have discovered something about myself. Much like Cinderella, (minus the blond hair, poofy dress, glass slippers, sweet personality, and the fairy godmother of course) once the clock strikes 8:00pm I under-go a transformation.
Where once there stood a decent human being and loving mother, there appears a wild-eyed, fire-breathing, snarling she-wolf.
*sigh* Well, since I've already divulged this much, I might as well confess the rest.
I'm a werewolf.
There, I said it! So don't judge. If you can love Jacob Black just because of his abs, you can love me for my simple desire to have abs at all.
So, those last few minutes before 8:00pm are vital. I tuck my beautiful children into bed and tell them I love them and that if they come out of their rooms for any reason before the sun rises I'm going to......... eh hem. Sorry. I forgot people actually read this blog from time to time. *clearing throat*
But as I start to close the door, inevitably someone will call out, "Story, mom! Story!"
If there is still time before 8:00pm, I can manage to come up with a somewhat decent story like this one from the other night:
"Once upon a time there was a little piggy who had a curly tail but that didn't matter to him because he wanted to fly. So he went to the witch and asked her to give him wings so he could fly, so the witch turned him into a butterfly. Then he got caught in a spiders web.
Story telling at its finest right there. *insert eye roll*
But if it's after 8:00pm and I've already undergone my transformation, I find myself telling stories like this:
(to be said as a run-on sentence with not stops or breaths) "Once upon a time there were two little boys who wouldn't go to sleep so the aliens came and beamed them up to their ship and made them slaves forever!
I tend to think my work then is done until I hear, "Mom, what does "beamed" mean?"
They should know better than to mess with a werewolf like that.
Hubby and I make quite a pair. He tells bedtime stories like that too, all the time. The weirdest part is that sometimes, I swear the kids love it! Their giggling in the covers totally gives it away.
And other times as I close the door to their rooms, I can hear my children thinking, "Mom needs help."
I feel the love.
What is bedtime like for you?
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