a rugs life

I seem to have found myself in the middle of a long narrative that shows no signs of ending.

It all started 4 days ago, walking home from work and daycare,  when my daughter, as is her wont, asked me to tell her a story. I began recounting one of my formulaic tales: a cohort of animals and children set out on a walk that turns into an adventure and ends happily with a big meal and long nap. However, this time, when it got to the adventure part, my daughter asked me to add a second adventure, and then a third. Before I knew it, we were home and we hadn’t yet finished the third adventure. So I told her I’d finish the story after dinner.

When I picked up the story, I inadvertantly set the group off on a long trip in an airplane….. and then had to recount all the adventures experienced at their destination. Boot, Roo, Lilly, Rada, and Kanga had flown themselves to a popular vacation spot and they spent many happy hours exploring the beach, taking boat rides, meeting interesting creatures, and watching glorious parades.

The next day, I wanted to bring them all home and be done with it, but my daughter would have none of this. She insisted that they hadn’t spent enough time on their visit.

And so it has gone. The story is by no means drawing to an end, and I’ve lost track of extensive subplots that may or may not be important further along. But one thing that is sort of neat is that my daughter has taken to the idea of a story extending over days and perhaps weeks.

I confess I’m getting rather weary of it all. At one point I considered killing the whole group off. But the possibility of causing literary trauma to my daughter stopped me and I returned to plodding along with telling the saga…. at least for now.