The Wonder of a Told Story
Everyone loves a spoken story. There’s something about the immediacy of this exchange that feels soothing and deeply connecting. Nancy Mellon, a professional storyteller who is also a lecturer, writer, psychologist and former Waldorf teacher, has dedicated her life to encouraging parents and teachers to tell stories to children—stories that come directly from us. A workshop of hers I attended long ago inspired some of the most bonding moments of my family life. I am forever grateful.
I first met Nancy when my older son (now grown!) was in kindergarten and she was offering an evening lecture and all-day storytelling workshop for parents. I was immediately drawn to the quality of her presence. There was something about the way she spoke that made me feel safe and want to move in closer, like a small child who can’t help but curl up at a storyteller’s feet.
But then came the “work” part of the workshop: Nancy split us up into pairs and asked us to, right then and there, create a simple story together. I was surprised by the alarm that sounded in me. “What? Right now?! I can’t make up a good story just like that! I’m not feeling creative. What if my partner thinks my ideas are no good?” I was thrown by my strong negative reaction to this low-stakes, spontaneous act of creativity I’d been invited to engage in. I regretted ever having signed up for the workshop.
Thankfully, my partner was kind and sensitive. She put me at ease and waited for my contributions to the evolving little tale we made up together. The story seemed to quickly take on a life of its own as if it had been waiting invisibly for its moment to be told:
Once there was a little gray seed lying in the ground just where a child had planted it. Each day the child came by with her watering can and gave the earth all around the buried seed a good drink. This felt so delightful to the little seed that it could feel itself reaching and stretching, reaching and stretching, reaching and stretching…until…one day, it reached right up out of the ground. A little green shoot poked out, held steady by its roots below. In time the shoot grew into a stalk. Taller and stronger it became until finally, one day, a big yellow flower burst forth, full of joy. The flower grew bigger still and reached toward the sun, for it was a sunflower. The sunflower stretched high above all the other flowers in the garden and turned its face up to bathe in the golden glow from above. Oh, how soft and welcoming the sun’s rays felt! The sun saw something familiar in the sunflower’s gaze, and beamed down sweetly in return with all its tender warmth. They held their shining faces toward each other like that for a very long time, each reflecting the other, lost in a reverie. “I see you, and you see me,” they whispered to each other. They felt very happy indeed.
The storytelling exercise turned out to be more fun and satisfying than my initial panic would have suggested. I felt comforted by the homespun tale, and decided to tell it that evening to my boys, who were one-and-a-half and four at the time. I’ll never forget their response! Listening to this story that came straight from me, without a book between us, they snuggled in closer and closer on the big bed and gazed directly into my face, full of open wonder (like the sunflower!). They seemed to drink up my words as I had never seen them do before, although we certainly loved our storybooks. When I said, “The End,” my four-year-old whispered, “Mama, that was a beautiful story!” and the baby nodded “yes” with sweet solemnity. Something special had happened, I realized. All I had done was take a simple story—one I’d helped weave out of thin air earlier that day—and convey it directly to my boys. But somehow this humble act had real value, and it felt good. The story may not have had the most interesting characters or unexpected plot twists, and it lacked beautiful illustrations. Nevertheless, it was a vehicle for a genuine exchange of the heart, and my boys soaked it in just like the warm rays of the sun.
Some suggestions:
If you’re not ready to weave your own tale just yet, start by retelling from memory a children’s story you know, without the medium of a book between you. Keep it short and do your best. This way you can look into your child’s eyes as you speak, rather than at the pages.
Simple tales reflective of what the animals and plants are doing in the natural world are always favorites for young children.
Use a calm, easy voice and avoid overly dramatizing the characters’ spoken parts. Remember, the storytelling time is about connection, not performance. However this doesn’t mean to drone on without any affect. Strive to be very present in your words and they will let you know how they want to be spoken.
“The Story of Today,” where you review the day’s events in a storytelling manner, can be a wonderful part of a bedtime routine. Children delight in hearing small details from their very own day.
Or through a different character—whether an animal or a child called by another name—you can recount a typical ‘day in the life’ of your child, or a certain special day. Children resonate with the character and love the familiar, yet slightly different, story: “There once was a boy named Finn who loved playing in the brook beside his house…” Perhaps this ‘Finn’ meets a glittery fish there, or a hoppity frog….
Children also drink up simple stories about your own childhood (the snow forts you made in the empty lot next door to your house, for example, or a funny pet you had growing up). I have often told “The Story of Piper Kitty,” my onetime barn cat turned pampered house cat. “Harpo and the Stormy Night” is another favorite about a big, wet husky dog who came home in the middle of a rainy night and decided to settle himself into my mother’s warm, dry bed—his head on her pillow—before she could get back to it first. If you’ve ever had a pet, you have a story.
Spontaneous made-up stories are always available when needed (in the doctor’s waiting room, stuck in traffic, at a restaurant, getting through a walk in the woods without needing to be carried). Scan the immediate area, or scan your mind, for a few simple prompts to get you started. “Once there was a hollowed-out stump right at the edge of the woods. Somebody lived there…”
Sometimes just speaking the first few words— “Once upon a time there was a little boy who liked to look at the clouds…”—sets you on your way to a good-enough story. The next words seem to want to follow once you’ve begun. “One day he thought for sure he saw a great white goose in the clouds…”
Pick a couple of recurring characters that have adventures. When my boys were a little older, somehow the characters Xanon, a boy from a crystal planet, and Sammy Sue, a regular human girl, popped into my mind one day, and I told a story about their meeting a wise old being who lived underground in the roots of a tree. From that day on, these characters were a staple that both my husband and I brought on many adventures (and I can tell you that the kinds of adventures he took them on were wildly different from mine!). These two characters saved us—and connected and uplifted us—on many a long car ride. Even if I felt utterly lacking in creativity, there was enough momentum going with these two after a while that a story could start with something as unpromising as, “One day Xanon and Sammy Sue were sitting on Sammy Sue’s back porch. It was hot, they were tired, and they couldn’t think of a thing to do…” To my own surprise and relief, a story would begin to take shape.
At home, you may want to find a way to mark story time, such as wrapping up in a cozy afghan reserved just for those moments, or sitting in a particular chair or on some floor pillows, or turning on a small lamp instead of the overhead lights. Some people like to light a candle at the beginning of story time and ceremoniously snuff it out at the end. If this becomes distracting or unsafe, however, find something different. The smallest hint of ritual can go a long way toward creating a listening mood for a special story time.
Go ahead and give it a try—with openness and curiosity—and see what unfolds. You don’t have to know where you’re going with the story; it may have a mind of its own. You and your child will enjoy this time together and feel truly filled up and connected. Children are quite happy with your honest effort, and they are the most receptive listeners you could wish for!