Thursday, March 6, 2008

talk a story to me

I don't often blog about mother-son relationships (except on the HESH Files which is woefully far behind) but he and I are now in the early stages of an evolving oral tradition that is sure to live on in our family until everyone dies out, turns gay or the republicans start the apocolypse.
As a girl, my dad always tolds stories about gangs of silly monsters who took over our house while we were away and at bedtime he read Uncle Remus and Uncle Wiggily stories (are those 2 brothers or what?) My mother read me the Wizard of Oz, A Walk in Wolf Woods and other epic, mythologically relevant books but the only story I really remember her making up for me on the spot was: "Once upon a time there was girl named Dory who had a brother named Rory and a dog named Bory. The end." (any similiarities to people living or dead is not pure coincidence and should be taken as a sign ((change your name immediately))). (Bless my mom's heart. I'm sure she told me 8,564 imaginative stories and the only one I remember is the one with zero story line and rhyming sibling names. But that's the glory of momhood, eh?)

Anyway, story hour at the Haggard home begins with Henry saying "Mommy, talk a story to me" and I say "what about" and he says "about a blue baby bear named Henry Quinoa who falls out of a tree and lands on his back" and I say "oh god" (under my breath of course,) and then I begin. Henry Quinoa, our fair hero, is always a


of a different color, named after our first born son and his favorite pseudo-cereal, quinoa. He always has super-human-super-animal abilities, is completely anthropomorphic and can fly. He is 60 feet tall and likes to set out into the unknown without his Mommy or his Daddy (Joseph Campbell, you have nothing on us!). He likes to pack berries and cheese sticks in his backpack and help small children get to the top of the slide. He climbs to the top of the tree to trade a raisin with a bird for a white feather and then, right before he reaches the top, he falls down down down to the ground and that's when he learns how to fly.


  1. Can I really let this go, uncommented? Sure! I'm going to ask Henry to talk ME a story!

  2. R once asked for a story about Tarzan and Jesus. She then proceeded to to tell me that Tarzan had to save Jesus from the panther in the jungle, because Jesus is just a baby and can't save anyone.

  3. Hey Valley, this sounds familiar however the storytelling in our house is a Dave/Maya team. Hope your well. It was great to see you the other day. I like your blog. You can visit mine at Alvarez Art. Talk to you soon.