I’m trying to be a writer. I mean, I actually feel a calling on my life to write about the things of God. It turns out, that is a hard thing to do and I have a lot to learn.
My podcasts blare out through the kitchen, the car rides, and the bath times while I squeeze the learning process into the margins of my full life.
Some of it seems to be sticking to the little people.
Alex started speaking in a narrative stream of thought the other night…
“’Dinner’s ready!’ Mama cried”
“’Good Call!’ The children answered”
What? I mean really, just what? Is this how we are talking now?
Yes. Evidently the answer is yes.
Even while I choked on the giggle in my throat, a fleeting thought crossed my mind that he’d have plenty of stories to tell if he ever wrote his memoirs.
This new narrative practice of speaking has infected the whole tribe is participating. No seriously yall. Out of the generosity of their hearts, Alex and Lily are even giving the little kids a script as they live their audiobook. (That’s it! I just realized we have had a large uptick in the number of audio books we are listening to.)
So now they tell Eli and Ava what to say,
“After we say, ‘Let’s play basketball,’ You say, ‘Good call!’”
(A side note: It has come to my attention that anytime my answer is yes, I tell my children “Good call”)
Now they’re all in on it. Someday they will all be sitting around a table writing their memoirs about their childhood together. Probably a whole lot about how they ate rice and beans everyday because their mama couldn’t cook worth a flip, but she read a mean Dr. Seuss. All my dialogue will sound like a clip from things Southern Mama's Say..
"No ma'am. We are fixin' to go to the park."
"Y'all, hush, I'm tryin' to talk on the phone."
"Don't test me.."
"I'm fixing dinner, baby."
Come to think of it, if they are going to write a book, I need to get my act together. I should probably go make a homemade meal, huh?
Yeah. Good call.