But "storytime", I was initially surprised to find out, isn't just about the literature.
Storytime tends to represent the winding down of the day, the decompression...the coming of the full circle. As such, it tends to bring out bizarre, hilarious, sometimes emotional and always entertaining episodes from the kids. Some of this is released physically (moving, drawing, picking the nose), some verbally (asking questions, making noises), and some, perhaps unsurprisingly...flatulently.
And some not just from the girls...
For example, once a week my parents watch my kids and my new nephew, Adam - now 1 1/2. A few months back, as McKenna and I were waiting for Reese to finish brushing her teeth so we could get started reading, McKenna was a bundle of energy. She was rolling around on the bed, doing somersaults, and suddenly jumped up into a football crouch and said, "DAD! Guess what?!"
Sometimes you just know something good is going to happen.
She was savoring this and wanted to make sure I understood the importance of what she was about to disclose... "Did you know that Adam...has...TESTICLES?!?!?!"
Tremendous!
"Well, honey, I have to admit that I suspected as much...but that's quite a discovery! You're like the Magellan of testicles!"
But she wasn't done yet, and turned pensive. "Dad...did you have testicles when you were a baby?"
Tremendous squared.
"As a matter of fact, you might not believe this, but yes I did...and, brace yourself, I still have them now!!!"
Her mind was blown. "Can I see them?"
"Well..." I wasn't sure how to begin... "I'm not really in the habit of whipping out my testicles on demand," I started. "Tell you what, the next time you catch me walking around after a shower - feel free take a look."
She contemplated this soft denial. "OK."
These types of interactions are, clearly, priceless, and storytime seems to provide the perfect environment for it all to develop.
A few years back as the three of us laid there cuddling after we were finished reading, I was surprised to get the huge question out of left field, "Dad, how are babies made?" I tangibly felt the weight of my children's adolescent development on my shoulders as I excitedly formulated my response. This was a great opportunity to build my kids' trust, to be totally open, honest and educational, to describe a totally natural life moment in factual terms within a society that tended to put ridiculous tabboos on it all - I could help shape their healthy perspectives, give them a solid foundation to build upon, definitively lead them down the path of healthy relationships and positive self image. The importance of it all made me both excited and nervous...
I spent the next five minutes answering their question with honesty, facts and respect. As I wound it up, I couldn't help thinking how great this was, how perfect my response had been, how this was a moment they might remember for the rest of their lives - I had hit a home run.
The dark room was quiet for a good ten seconds after I finished, and I knew they were twisting and turning all this information around in their little minds - amazed at it all and empowered to conquer the world from this moment on. I couldn't wait to hear what they had to say...and finally, McKenna was the first to pipe up.
"Dad?"
"Yes, hon?"
"...I ate a bubble today!"
I was learning that my kids and I weren't always on the same wavelength...and that my wavelength wasn't always the one I should expect that we be on...
This became perfectly clear one night as we were in the midst of Huckleberry Finn. An incredible book - obviously - but somewhat difficult for young kids to understand what's going on at all times...especially with regards to the underlying social themes. It required a lot of sidebar explanations, and we had established a process that whenever either they were confused or had a question, they wouldn't just interrupt me, they would tap me on the arm and as soon as I finished the paragraph I would stop and let them ask their question.
Huck Finn also has a lot of very funny/crazy dialect that Mark Twain wrote phonetically, and I always did my best to act it out. The girls always wanted to see what a particular crazy sound or word looked like on the page, and would stop me to have me point it out for them. Of course, there are times when I'm stopping after every paragraph, but in the end it's a great way for us all to stay involved in the story together.
In the midst of the scene in which Huck fakes his own death, the garlic pasta I had earlier in the evening was working its magic and I couldn't help but let one blast under the covers. About five seconds later, McKenna tapped me on the arm and I finished up the paragraph - doing my best to act out Jim's crazy speech and make the girls laugh.
"What's up babe?" I asked her.
"Can you show me where it says that?" she asked very seriously. "I want to see what it looks like."
"What part?" I had just went though a whole string of weird sounds and didn't know what she was referring to.
"The part where it says, 'Pfffffffffffffffffftt!" she mimicked my fart, looking at me 100% seriously.
I have to admit, I was touched that she thought I was good enough to read from more than one orifice.
But the point is this: sometimes things are inexplicable. Nonsensical. A meaningless blip of time that simply needs to be put in the past (however funny it may be...).
You see, last night's Survivor episode was like reading from multiple orifices. It was inane nonsense. Voting Coach out before Courtney, but with the drama of Russell exploding at Danielle for trying to be smartly strategic, and then having Russell and Parvati split the vote 4-3 at Tribal Council?
Baffling. Ridiculous. Inexplicable. Just plain dumb.
The Villains have now voted off their three strongest men: Rob, Tyson and Coach...and NOW they start talking about trying to keep the tribe potentially strong? Idiots. I don't understand their idiocy, I don't understand their vote, and to be honest, I don't want to. I just want to move on and forget about it.
There's no answer to seek here. There's no representation of this massive fart written on the script. It will simply dissipate into thin air with a stale, sour stench that nobody wants to or should remember.
So please, don't tap me on the arm and ask me what it all means...
Until next week,
PB
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