“Tell me another story, Mom.”
My kindergartner Leah’s bedtime books were read, and the lights were switched off. She was tucked in, but she didn’t want me to leave.
“Okay, just one more quick story. About what?” I asked, hoping for a caring but swift exit. I still needed to help her little sister off to dreamland and wrap up my leftover work from the day.
“How about a rainbow ghost?” Leah said, prompting the story that would carry her away to a whimsical dreamscape.
OK, sure. “Once upon a time…”
Leah’s bedtime stories always opened with this centuries-old warm-up. I had no idea where the plot was headed. I just let my mind wander. I would concoct the silliest scenarios, painting pictures in both our minds.
“There was lightning and thunder outside the witch’s hut. The witch was inside making a potion with the glowing green gem. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door…”
Each night, Leah would beg for a new story, and I was eager to discover what would pour from my imagination when it was cracked open and left to breathe. Tales of ghosts, tooth fairies, magic gems, wandering unicorns, dancing hippos, friendly cats and girls who loved cats would briefly come to life.
“Make it a little bit scary this time!” she said one night, daring me to conjure a whole new set of spooky character scenes.
“Ruth was dreaming. She was walking through a forest. There was a full moon. And she heard a ‘HOOOOWWWWL!’ ”
Whenever my brain grew tired and tapped out, I wrapped up the story with “… and she lived happily ever after.”
The lights stayed off, and with one last hug and a kiss, I was on to my next appointment to tuck in her little sister.
Unlike Leah, who wanted a new character and a new story each night, Audrey always wanted her favorite “baby story.”
“And the baby felt so warm and snuggly in her mommy’s arms that she closed her eyes and went to sleep.” With that refrain, I lulled Audrey to slumber by narrating the very thing we were doing.
Night after night, each daughter asked for a story and listened to every word that was made for her.
Once they were both fast asleep, I would find my way out into a quiet house, enchanted and soothed by this routine. Taking a moment to finish writing emails and clean up the piles from the day, I allowed the evening’s stories to dance in my head, too.
Maybe I started making up stories to help my daughters unwind at the end of the day. But I soon realized that letting my imagination run free also brought me joy. I didn’t know the characters in Leah’s stories before they went along their winding journeys. I loved meeting them and exploring their worlds.
Each night, I would tuck myself in with a smile, replaying the latest tale over and over again in my head until I jotted it down and then fell asleep, too.
Now a few years later, with a collection of stories saved, my daughters’ bedtime routines have shifted. I’m no longer dreaming up fictional characters and fictional journeys. I’m watching my kids take control of the narrative and seeing how their stories unfold.
Audrey, 4, still loves her one and only “baby story”—except now it’s her own remixed reprise that starts with her daddy’s arms snuggling the baby to sleep. (I’m relieved to share this important bedtime routine with my husband, Steve.) Her updates also include three additional verses for a mommy, an imaginary brother and, finally, a sister. I admire how she has held steady with her love of babies while inviting a full cast of family characters into her bedtime tale.
At 7, Leah has learned to read for herself. She now begs to read just one more chapter of a library book about cats before I turn out the light. Her passion for kitties has eclipsed all the mythical characters that previously captivated her. I am curious how long cats will be her main interest before her next chapter begins.
I may have been the one who created and delivered my kids’ first bedtime stories. I may have found immense joy in plumbing the depths of my imagination to delight them. But I’ve also realized how much their bedtime stories came from and are a part of them.
As I tuck myself into bed tonight, I am enchanted by my daughters. Just as I let their bedtime characters’ stories unwind and develop—the witches and the ghosts and the hippos and the babies—I now get to watch my daughters’ own stories unfold. I hope they both live happily ever after.
Catherine Davis is a mom to two imaginative little girls whose bedtime stories are chronicled in the One More Quick Story series of preschool books. Follow her on Instagram @onemorequickstory.