Over the last several weeks, bed time stories at our house have metamorphosed. It used to be story books. Then, for a while, it was Richard Scarry books, looking at/for various interesting pictures.
Now we tell stories.
“Goldilocks and the Three Bears” was first and still most beloved. “The Three Little Pigs” has also come up, as has “Jack and the Beanstalk.”
It’s not as easy as it sounds. How well do you remember those childhood stories? The porridge was too hot/cold, but both the chairs and beds were too hard/soft. Is that right? How does “Goldilocks” end?
And how do you tell a story that (a) is entertaining, (b) teaches proper lessons, and (c) doesn’t drive you mad with repetition.
Katherine enjoys casting Goldilocks. “Daddy, you Baby Bear! Mommy, you Mommy Bear! Me Goldilocks!”
Half the trick in making oral stories for kids entertaining is repeating patterns, in both occurances and in speech. The story stuff tends to take care of itself — the (repeated) three items that Goldilocks samples and the Bears find later, for example. We added Baby Bear going “HEY!” in front of her discoveries (Baby Bear is, of course, female). Jack says “Cool!” a lot: magic beans (cool!), a giant bean stalk (cool!), a singing harp (cool!), a goose that lays golden eggs (cool!). The Three Pigs sing their “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf” song, as well as the regular interchange litany (“Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” “Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!” “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll bloooooow your house in!”).
There’s also the moral. You gotta have a moral, because it drives the story. “Goldilocks” is a tale of a little girl barging into a strange house. “Three Pigs” is a tale of the value of hard work and investment — going to the effort to build with brick pays off better than cutting corners with straw. I haven’t figured out “Jack and the Beanstalk,” but Katherine enjoys my doing the “Fee, Fie, Foe, Fum!” bits, even if Margie raised an eyebrow about ground bones used for bread-making.
It takes me about three or four retellings to get a story down relatively pat. I’m still reaching that balance with “Jack,” inflating or deflating details at various points. What’s the Harp’s motivation? How much do I play with the shady guy in the shadows who sells Jack the beans?
I’m really enjoying this. These are stories I hope she remembers, and that she remembers the little details that Margie and I throw in. Katherine enjoys acting out different bits of the stories, too, and contributing her own parts (singing, dialog). And they’re part of our cultural history, source of thousands of references in books and cartoons and TV shows. As Jack would say, “Cool!”
The next story is “Little Red Riding Hood.” I’m looking forward to it.
UPDATE: Doyce has some observations on more amusing story-telling techniques with Katherine.
Harp? Is harp in the story or the disneyfication of the story?
(Not that you want to start with the original originals, I understand… but while you are conflating/deflating I would think about getting a bit closer to the traditional – but that’s just me. There is a reason I don’t have children. *evil grin*)
Have you found that with repetative tellings, you tend to embellish the points that stress the moral of the story? I find that I add plot twists to keep it interesing for my daughter. If you ever want a somewhat macabe bedtime story, check out The World According to Garp. Very interesting.
I seem to recall the singing harp from other renditions of the tale. I suppose I should look it up.
On the other hand, Katherine enjoys singing “La la la la la” for the singing harp, and it provides a bit of dialog in the story, so I got no problems with “borrowing” that bit of Disney, if they’re the ones.
Adam, yes, I’m finding myself emphasizing different bits of the story as time goes by. I haven’t tried adding new plot twists as yet, though. I think becoming familiar with the story is important, first.
When Jess was somewhere around the first grade we began The Princess Jessica tales which starred a spunky princess who startlingly shared my own daughter’s name and physical attributes. I know. What are the odds?
It was free form. It began with Princess Jessica rescuing her boyfriend Prince Caspian who was stupid enough to get tangled up with a cranky dragon. It just went from there, ran about 20 minutes a night, and ended with a cliffhanger. The stories ran about two years (until Jess decided she was too adult for bedtime stories).
The basic point was that by being resourceful and thinking for herself, Princess Jessica could take care of herself. (Not that she wouldn’t take help from Elves, Fairies, people or friendly cats if they appeared, but Princess Jessica didn’t count on such things.)
You never realize how much you have read until you begin to steal other folks’ plot lines to keep your own story afloat. You can involve your child in the story by pausing at a crucial juncture and asking them what *they* think Princess Jessica, or Princess Kitten might do.
As a long time gamer, I’m guessing you might be a natural at this. But you need to wait until she’s a bit older and she’s a bit more formed as an individual–when she’s six or so she’ll have enough of a sense of herself and the possibilities of the world to really join in. Could be fun 🙂
Hmmmmm … 🙂
When I was younger, I wrote bedtime stories for my little sister as if she were telling the story, which could have been disasterous, if I wasn’t trying SO HARD to make it sound like she was smart (meaning, “Like Me,” in this case.) [laughing]
Otherwise, I found out that I have a highly feminist viewpoint when it comes to telling traditional tales to my little sisters. Rapunzel dumped the prince, Rumplestilskin got what he deserved… I don’t mean to, but I’m trying to make the tales have some SENSE. I don’t want them asking, “Why did she go with the mean old prince then?”
Can’t wait until I tell the stories to the boys…
If you can’t come up with reasons why the characters are doing something, it’s probably not a good fairy tale.