As a mother, one of my greatest joys is sitting down with my preschooler and reading him a story. There’s something magical about flipping through the pages of a book together, watching his little fingers trace the illustrations, and hearing his excited giggles when the story takes an unexpected turn. But more often than not, before we even reach for a book, he’ll look at me with those curious eyes and say, “Mommy, can you tell me a story you made up?”
How could I ever say no to that?
And so, every night, I weave a world just for him. The stories are always evolving, always slightly different. They feature characters he can see himself in—children his age exploring a world of wonder, facing little challenges, and learning big lessons. There are adventures filled with activities he loves: walking in the forest, solving mysteries, building forts. And each story has a tiny seed of truth, a lesson planted gently within its layers.
What amazes me the most is how he listens, how he tries to picture every detail, and how he asks unending questions that make me laugh, pause, or think harder than I expected. “Why does the bird have rainbow feathers?” “Can I help build the rocket ship?” “What happens if the boy doesn’t say sorry?” It’s as though his imagination and heart grow a little more with every story.
He often asks me to tell the same tale over and over again, but I can’t help adding little twists. A new character. A surprise challenge. A change in setting. It keeps him on his toes and keeps the wonder alive. Each retelling becomes a new discovery for both of us.
His eager smile when I start a story, his delighted squeal when the hero solves the problem, and his sigh of contentment (or sometimes, utter disappointment) when the story ends—it’s these moments that I hold close. These moments remind me that stories are not just words; they’re connections. They’re love wrapped in imagination and adventure.
To my little boy: thank you for inviting me into this world of storytelling. You may think these stories are just for you, but they’re shaping me, too—teaching me to see the world through your bright, curious eyes.
And who knows? Maybe someday, you’ll tell these stories back to me. Or better yet, create your own.
