As I stood in my kitchen wiping counters, putting dishes away, my son walked up behind me and asked me a question that he's never asked me before...
"Mumma, can I tell you a story?"
I immediately stopped what I was doing and turned to face him. His upturned face was full of smiles and his hands held something behind his back.
I couldn't wait to hear this story. I was riveted already.
Yes. Yes, of-course you can tell me a story honey.
"Once there was an ant. And he went pee on the potty."
So this was a 'big boy' ant.
"And then he put pepper in his eyes."
"And then he got squished! By a boat!"
Out from behind his back came a toy boat. His intention, I'm sure, was to enthusiastically thrust it at me but instead it slipped from his still small four year old hands and crashed against the fridge.
He picked it up and gave it to me.
Oh no! What a story! That poor ant! What about a happy ending? Can he have a happy ending too?
A short pause. And then.
"He went back to his ant castle.
And he had a knight sword.
And a knight shield.
And a knight vest!"