One of our favourite activities is tucking the kids in at night, especially if they are willing to go to bed. They're sweet, snuggly, and if you do everything according to plan they'll pass out before you're out the bedroom door.
The girlie, especially, needs the routine to be EXACT. Every night, after she washes up, she has a story read to her while she sits on Mom or Dad's lap on the rocker. Then she climbs into bed, with her little doggie Koko, and sometimes another guy (lately the IKEA rat) and asks for another story, usually one about our childhood.
I'll be honest, we've run out of stories and often have to make things up. After the "real" story, we then kiss her three times, Koko once, and we must tell her we love her, so she can say, "see you in the morning, love you too!!!'. Often she gets her "love you too" out before we say it first.
Last night, as her Dad was getting her wrapped in her covers, she said, "Daddy, I want to hear a story."
And her Dad started his usual trip down memory lane, before he was interrupted.
"No Daddy, I want to hear a story about the dead."
Daddy replied, "No sweetie, that would be a very sad story."
That seemed to satisfy her. So instead, the hubs regaled her with the story of the time when as a teenager, he and his cousin took his uncle's car out in the dark and did donuts on the field of a neighbouring cottage/farm, unknowingly destroying rows of freshly planted trees ...(well, not really, hopefully he'll hold that story until she's much much older).
A strange request though, don't you think?
And check her latest self-portrait:
It bears a remarkable resemblance to a familiar face:
(image from scifipedia.scifi.com)
You can call me Morticia.