Posted tagged ‘laughter’
February 14, 2021
I couldn’t help myself. One of my seventh-graders had pushed me, dared me, to do it…to do a rap! He doubted my ability to lose my attachment to ancient music– that is, music from the seventies– and pull off a different genre of music that I rarely can decipher the words of.
My students have become used to my tendency to stray outside of the stoic, starched collar, and whatever the textbook says. When I showed up one day while everybody was virtual, dressed as my twin brother, Bobby Wolfe, complete with a blonde mullet wig and Wolfe Family Reunion ball cap, their virtual eyes widened. Another day, as we were finishing the novel The Outsiders, I came as a greaser with a close resemblance to Fonzie (Henry Winkler) on Happy Days. A twenty-year-old Furby showed up a couple of weeks ago.
So a rap, doable!
I wrote it out and waited. The seventh-grader who had double-dared me was out of school because of a sickness, so I waited some more. Finally, he was back this week and on Friday afternoon I let loose with the lyrical masterpiece. Astonished– or petrified, I couldn’t tell the difference– students were taken back by the rhythm and fluctuation in my rapping solo. Here’s the words, in case you’re wondering:
I’m a granddaddy with the Starburst. I wish they’d make a flava’ of Liverwurst!
I’m looking at an empty wrapper, you can just call me the Starburst Rapper!
Don’t want no cherry, ’cause cherry got to be my scary!
It needs to be strawberry! Do I look like Katie Perry!
I’m a granddaddy with the Starburst. I wish they’d make a flava’ of Liverwurst!
I’m looking at an empty wrapper, you can just call me the Starburst Rapper!
Here’s where the rap took an unfortunate turn toward the unexpected. I plopped a strawberry-flavored Starburst candy into my mouth as I was weaving my way through the original creation. As I neared the end, about the time I said Starburst Rapper for the last time, one of my lower gold crowns sprung loose with the taffy attached to it. It was a fitting end, as my students eyes widened even further at the object that emerged from my mouth. Then there was the sound of clapping for my rapping…or was it for the unexpected special effects ending?
The student who had double-dared me into this adventure, and who is always bugging me for candy, looked at me and the strawberry-taffy-covered gold crown I was holding and gave me a frown that communicated, “What a waste of a perfectly good Starburst!”
Categories: Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: laughter, rapping, Starburst, taffy
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February 2, 2020
WORDS FROM W.W. February 2, 2020
Christians follow the events of Jesus during Holy Week— his entry into Jerusalem, his last supper with his followers in the Upper Room, the betrayal, his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, arrest, trial, beating, and crucifixion. The Holy Week events go hand in hand with Jesus being referred to as “a man of sorrows.”
As an African-American preacher once preached, however, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!”, and he laughed deep and delighted. His words brought grins to the faces of his congregation and shouts of “Hallelujah!”
Some followers of Jesus seem to have been convinced that Jesus was a man of sorrows from birth unto death, that he would have been described as a solemn child who never cracked a smile. It may be an excuse for the dreariness and dryness of their own spiritual journey.
I remember in my first years of ministry having someone scold me about the fact that she had walked by the room where the Wednesday Night Youth Bible Study was being held and heard laughter. How could I teach the Bible to these kids and let them laugh? I wanted to ask her why her face always looked like she was sucking on a lemon…but I didn’t? I was the rookie and she was one of the church pillars, stone cold and unyielding.
Scripture tells us that Jesus got upset with his disciples when they rebuked parents for trying to bring their children to Jesus. Children delighted Jesus. He said that the kingdom of heaven belonged to such as these.
In my years of being a pastor I gave hundreds of “children’s sermons”. I can only remember there being one time when I didn’t laugh at something that one of the kids said in the midst of the story. That ONE TIME was the Sunday I had the ingeniously idiotic idea of doing two children’s sermons in the same worship gathering. During the second sermon it was like herding cats. The kids were crawling behind the communion table, trying to escape, and looking curiously at the musical instruments close at hand. It was…memorable! Now, years later I chuckle every time I remember it.
I can not imagine Jesus being the man of sorrows as children gathered around him.
In the seriousness of the world Christians need not just the vital image of the Suffering Servant nailed to the cross, but also the joyous Jesus who grinned in the hallelujah moments of His journey.
I find it interesting that science and psychology are doing more research about the effects of laughter. The findings have revealed how laughter relieves stress, boosts the immune system, and relaxes the muscles.
It seems to me that Jesus-followers should laugh the loudest and longest. After all, we know that after Jesus’ death on that Friday his burial tomb was empty on Sunday and the stone had been rolled away. In essence, He had the last laugh!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: children's sermons, following Jesus, Holy Week, Jesus' resurrection, joy, joy-filled, laughing, laughter, man of sorrows, open tomb, smiling, solemn, the effects of laughter
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November 24, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. November 24, 2019
I’m into that phase of life that includes the word “spilling”. Spilling the shampoo, spilling the garbage, spilling the beans, spilling the gas as I put it in the lawnmower…you get the idea. I could insert another word in there like drop, fumble, miscalculated my grip, etc.
A couple of days ago I had prepared an awesome breakfast— hash browns cooked nice and crispy, bacon, toast— and I was ready to fry the eggs, sunny side up for Carol and over easy for myself. When I took the egg carton out of the refrigerator top shelf I erroneously grazed the side of the carton with the door and lost my grip. The full dozen validated the law of gravity and made a crash landing on the wooden floor. The styrofoam carton popped open as it hit and all twelve were thrown onto the floor.
I kneeled down, hoping for survivors…well, survivors to cook up, I guess…but every single one of them had been broken. No yolk! (Sorry, bad pun!)
The runny egg whites had splayed across the floor, even splattering back onto the refrigerator door, like they were grasping for life. Carol came to look and she started laughing. I, on the other hand, did not have that initial reaction. After I cursed myself for having bad wide receiver hands, I debated whether breakfast could still be “scraped together.” (Bad pun #2.)
Four eggs, like a used car lot, looked driveable. Sunny side up and over easy were no longer options, but scrambled still worked.
Carol was still laughing, and she soon brought me to the place of humor. “I wish I could have taken a picture before you cleaned them up,” she said with a chuckle. I was glad I had rushed to erase the evidence.
We’ve all spilled the eggs, in one way or another. That is, we’ve all fumbled situations and put on the coat of embarrassment. There are just some life-spills that you need to discard any thoughts of keeping your dignity and allow yourself to laugh.
Like the time when I walked through an airport terminal to meet my friend, Artie Powers, and he let me know that I had left my barn door open. Several women who had passed me had smiled at me. I had been thinking that my manhood must have been looking pretty impressive. When I realized the smiles were because of a lowered zipper I turned red…and then laughed!
Sometimes you just have to laugh at the spilled eggs. What a crack up they are! (Bad pun #3)
So I scrambled up the best-looking four, placed them on our plates alongside the bacon, hash browns, and toast, and we feasted.
My only unanswered question was wondering how those dark specks got into the eggs, because I know I hadn’t peppered mine!
Categories: children, Freedom, Grace, Humor, marriage, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: accidents, dropping things, egg whites, fumbles, ings, laughter, mistakes, scrambled eggs, spilling th, spills, unfortunate events
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August 10, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. August 10, 2019
Last week I wrote about the tragic loss of a father of five (“Answering the Why”, August 4; WordsfromWW.com) in a road accident. The family was in the midst of a move from our city to another community. It was a new beginning, new challenges and opportunities, new friends to make and schools to attend…and then in a few seconds everything changed. My blog post focused on the “why” questions of life that we strive to answer and yet we can find no answer.
Yesterday I attended the funeral of the father. During the course of the service there was pain and there was laughter…and there was laughter, acting like a blanket, bringing some warmth to cover the chill of the deep, deep pain.
The laughter was healing. It drew the gathering into the story, the person. It swung like a grapevine from the heartache of loss to the loss of opportunities to the emptiness of Dad’s chair at the table.
Every chuckle about a past encounter or a humorous saying was tempered with the realization that it would never occur again. And yet the laughter was ointment for the aches of the journey.
I’ve thought a lot about this tragedy in the past week. In the midst of the accident details there’s a sense of injustice and a rising amount of anger. The laughter helps simmer the unrest that has been planted in people’s souls.
My mom’s last few years were filled with the afflictions that Parkinson’s Disease can bring. The loss of mobility and the devastating effect on her ability to speak. My sister and I recently retold “Mom stories”. It’s been five years since she passed and, although we remember the pain, we shared the stories of who she was, experiences we shared and conversations we had…and we laughed. The humor brought her back to us. We could see her sitting in her chair, watching “Dancing With The Stars” and working her crossword puzzle. We remembered how she would use her “Baptist Mom Guilt” on us to make us do things we didn’t want to.
We could envision the times when she would grab on to Dad and say her classic line of romance to him: “Kiss me, slobber lips! I can swim!” We would pretend we were grossed out by the dining room affection, but it really caused us to chuckle…and still does.
There is pain in life and laughter in the pain. It is not an escape from the grief, but rather footwear for the journey. The steps begin with the uncertainty of a tightrope and gradually gain a steadiness as we balance our mourning with the memories.
Our souls cry out. Our laughter helps us to keep going.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, love, marriage, Parenting, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: experiencing loss, funeral, funeral service, grief, grieving, grieving a loss, heartache, humor and tragedy, laughing, laughter, loss, pain, Parkinson's Disease, remembering, remembrance, why questions
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July 13, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. July 13, 2019
I was telling my sister a story from my middle school substitute teaching experiences of this past year. It probably was the one where a seventh grade boy tried to hide in the library and play video games on his cell phone.
She laughed and said, “Oh, Bill, you make me laugh every time you come to visit us!”
Shortly after that we drove past a section of run-down houses and properties along the banks of the Ohio River that made us shake our heads and I said, “I’ve come to realize that there are those people in life who make you laugh, those you make cry, and those who just make you shake your head.”
Laughers, lamenters, and losers.
I’m in the laughing category. I had enough lamenting during my 36 years as a Baptist pastor. There was plenty a Sunday where someone who looked like they had been sucking on lemons before they arrived at church, continued siphoning the joy out of the congregation. When I retired…kinda’…at the end of 2015 laughter moved back in with me.
Being a coach and a substitute teacher with middle schoolers brings multitudes of laughter into my life.
Like the kid who decided he wanted to sit under his desk one morning as school was beginning. My advice to sit IN his seat went unheeded and so he found himself in the principal’s office before we had even said the pledge of allegiance.
Or the young lady who noticed that I was giving nicknames to several other students and she wanted one. So I named her “Beano”, which was just a slight variation from her real name. I heard her grumble to her friend, “Oh, great! He gives me a nickname that deals with farting.” The next year I changed it, after discovering what a great young lady she was and her level of intelligence. She became “Braino”. She liked that better.
I love to laugh. In most situations of life (Notice I said most!) I can find an avenue towards laughter.
Lamenters are those who have endured the traumas and trials of life and you feel for them. Long illnesses, tragedies, unfair circumstances, heartaches…the list of life events leaves the listener saddened and empathetic.
There are some lamenters who feel almost at home in the residence of drama. They wear the moments like a dark sweater that fits well.
Lamenters sap our energy. We hurt for them, try to walk with them, and offer encouraging words to them.
My dad was a laugher and my mom was a lamenter. Through 65 years of marriage he encouraged her and walked with her. He loved her dearly and they were about as devoted to one another as a couple can possibly be.
Lamenters aren’t bad people. They tend to simply be more pessimistic. Laughers are, more often than not, optimists.
But then there are the losers! That is, those people who just make you shake your head. They are the ones who after hearing what they did, you mutter to yourself, “What was he thinking?” They are folk who overslept the day common sense was being distributed, and tend to think that the solution to their financial debts is just one more lottery ticket away.
Like the man in Oregon who burglarized a house, along with his cat. (Does that make his cat a “cat burglar”?) He was caught INSIDE the walls of the home. He had eaten two and a half cupcakes that were in the refrigerator, and had put on a “onesie” that belonged to the woman who lived in the house. The cat was wearing a tee shirt. It’s a story that you read and you just shake your head…”what was he thinking?”
Laughers, lamenters, and losers, that pretty much sums up people. I suppose I could have come up with a few other “L’s” for categories like “Lame”, “Laid Back”, and “Leave Me Alone!”, but I’ll just LEAVE it at that!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: cat burglar, common sense, criers, cryers, lack of common sense, lament, laughers, laughter, losers, making people laugh, middle school, middle schoolers, nicknames, onesie, optimists, pessimists, substitute teaching, weepers
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April 11, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. April 11, 2018
For most of my life I’ve been a laugher at the lighter moments and unusual occurrences. I take after my dad in that respect. My mom was the more serious parent. Laughing, from my perspective, was an ointment of survival in my thirty-six years as a pastor.
Like the Sunday we ran out of communion cups before everyone had been served. I remember pretending to drink the communion juice out of pretend cups, as did the others who were up front facing me after serving the congregation. Some may have stressed about the “pretending”, but I thought it was somewhat humorous. I guess who could call it “Communion Lite”!
Carol and I seem to be advancing in age and we’re encountering a few incidents of forgetfulness. No, I don’t believe we’re in the beginning stages of dementia or some other heart wrenching affliction that we see so often these days. I don’t believe I’m experiencing the effects of football-related concussions either. I tried to stay away from being tackled or tackling someone else. I was proficient in my avoidance of contact. My helmet was as clean as a well waxed Corvette at the end of the season.
This week we had planned on having dinner with Marie one night- Marie Calendar’s, that is! Pot pies to be exact! We prefer to bake them in the oven instead of the much shorter time in the microwave, so we preheated the oven to 400 degrees. They take about fifty minutes to bake, plus another five minutes to cool. I went upstairs to do some writing and Carol continued watching Dr. Phil, or some other show where someone is willing to let the whole world know that they are screwed up!
An hour later I came back downstairs. Carol was relaxing on the couch and as I walked into the kitchen I noticed two pot pies sitting on top of the stove. “Oh! They’re done!” was my first thought, and I walked over to help serve them.
But they weren’t done! They weren’t even started! We had forgotten to put them in the oven that had now been heating “nothing” at 400 degrees for the last hour.
“Ahhh, Carol!”
“Yes, dear!”
“We forgot to put the pot pies in the oven.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope!”
And we both laughed! “Well, where would you like to go for dinner?” (Perhaps each of us subconsciously wanted to go out for dinner to begin with!)
We both laughed at our mental slip, and we had a great dinner out that night!
My dad was a great storyteller. What he didn’t realize, or the better word might be remember, is that he had told the same story to me several times, and even though I knew some of his stories so well I could have finished telling them for him, I still laughed at the end. The way he told them always caused me to laugh, and he also always laughed at the end of the retelling. He passed away not quite two months ago at the well-lived age of 89 and 2/3’s! His life was well-oiled with chuckles and laughter.
Twenty years from now I’m hoping my three kids will be sitting at the dinner table with me and willingly listen to my retelling of some stories that I had forgotten had already been told…several times. And I hope we laugh as much then as Carol and I laughed a couple of nights ago after staring at those two stone cold pot pies sitting there impatiently on top of the stove.
Categories: children, Community, Death, Freedom, Grace, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: chuckles, dementia, dinner, forgetful, forgetfulness, forgetting, laughing, laughing at ourselves, laughter, light moments, Marie Calendar's, Marie Calendar's Pot Pies, mental difficulties, pot pies
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February 1, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 1, 2018
Dr. Stuart Ryder was an institution at Judson College (now Judson University). A professor in the English Department for “centuries”, in his later years he also assumed the role of Athletic Trainer for the school’s sports teams.
Dr. Ryder was also a master of puns. His sharp wit would rise to the surface suddenly with a humorous line that caused occasional laughter and, more frequently, groans.
For example, before a cross-country meet one of the runners was walking around barefoot, and Doc Ryder voiced, “I guess we must be smelling ‘da’ feet!”
Now, decades later I find myself using puns in the middle school classrooms where I’m teaching to the groans of the seventh grade students. It is as if I’m channeling Doc in my attempts at witty humor. It emerged again this morning at Starbucks when one of the baristas was fixing a cup of tea as I walked up to the counter. “Just a minute, Bill! I’ve got to fix the tea before the customer gets here.”
I quickly channeled Stuart Ryder. “I guess it wouldn’t be good for the cup to be ‘emp-ty!’”
She chuckled and said “Good one!” Seven A.M. humor at Starbucks is greatly appreciated in the midst of bleary-eyed customers who are waiting with heightened irritation for their first cup of java.
In the classroom “pun humor” keeps the middle school students alert. Some of it is too deep for them, but that’s okay! I don’t understand the math they’re doing either!
Dr. Ryder used to say a pun and then give a personal chuckle that involved some rapid and short inhaling and exhaling. When I utter a pun I just smile and look for understanding.
“Mr. Wolfe, see my baggie! I think someone stepped on my cookie that’s in it!”
“Well, I guess you could say that’s how the cookie crumbled!”
“Mr. Wolfe!”
Another situation while we were outside.
“Mr. Wolfe, I had my bag of chips sitting here on the rock and the wind came and blew the bag off. The chips went everywhere!”
“Gee, that’s too bad! I guess you might call that an example of ‘being chips off the old rock!’” (Loud groan in the midst of chip grieving!)
It’s Doc Ryder’s seeds from the past rising again in new life.
Our lives are cultivated by different people in a multitude of ways. Dr. Stuart Ryder planted, watered, and helped students grow.
Every time I find myself beginning a sentence with the words “I guess you could say…” I can hear the rumble of his laughter within me!
Categories: children, Christianity, coaching, Freedom, Humor, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: chuckling, Dr. Stuart Ryder, English, Judson College, Judson University, laughter, middle school, middle school humor, middle school students, pun humor, puns, Seventh Grade
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September 20, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. September 19, 2017
The six year old boy stood beside my desk and looked at me. “I’ve never had a boy teacher before. I’ve always had girl teachers.”
“Oh, is that so?” I replied.
“Yes, and I’ve always wanted a boy teacher. If I didn’t have a boy teacher by the time I’m eight or nine I was going to be really upset!”
“Okay! Well, I’m a boy!” He smiled and walked back to his desk. My morning of teaching first graders was beginning with one young man’s personal agenda being fulfilled.
Being a substitute teacher in first grade is a delightful experience…mostly! There were the moments when movement in certain students legs required them to get out of their seats and wiggle for a few seconds, and there’s always a student who wants to answer everything, be the one who is always chosen, and the one who is always first in line…but, for the most part, it’s an enjoyable experience. Someone’s pencil falls on the floor every five seconds, but no one ever throws a pencil at another student. That doesn’t become a problem until like…middle school!
Being a man…or a “boy teacher” in first grade causes the mouths of first grade students to drop open as they see the teacher of the other gender standing there as they arrive.
Some people who know me would say that my maturity level is similar to a first grader’s. At the school I subbed at a classical piece of music is played over the speakers in the classroom to begin the school day. I could not help myself as I swayed and moved my head from side-to-side in front of the classroom. The students giggled at my gyrations! In my opinion first grade needs to include a lot of laughter and giggling. Each day needs to be an experience in education, not a task in learning.
I led them on a journey with a nomad tribe, as we studied history. I made a fool of myself by intentionally saying the months of the year incorrectly and having them tell me when I messed up. I told them about my family as they enjoyed their mid-morning snack. My granddaughter is in first grade this year, and they thought that was pretty cool!
But this first grade class steered me back on the road when I was straying off-course. For example, at the beginning of the day the date is written on the board and I was forgetting to do that. STOP! As we were heading out for recess I had not taken the whistle that was hooked to the wall right by the door. One cute girl with a very serious look on her face corrected me. I repented of my omission and grabbed the whistle. I believe she has a future in law enforcement.
At noon the teacher who had been at training that morning…a girl teacher!…returned and I turned the rest of the day’s journey over to her…a little sad that I was leaving and blessed to have been a part of it!
Categories: children, Community, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: boy teacher, education, elementary school, First Grade, first graders, laughter, male elementary teacher, substitute teacher, substitute teaching, teaching
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January 21, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. January 21, 2017
Two weeks finished as a long-term substitute teacher for 7th Grade Social Studies! 120 students each school day filtering through one door into a roomful of desks that, unlike when I was in school, have no one’s initials carved into them.
Yesterday a young lady, whose family I’ve known for years, came up to me with “the long face” on. She looked at me and moaned, “Everyone loves your class!”
She’s not in it.
I don’t have a degree in teacher education, or been licensed/certfied by the state. I am not knowledgeable about educational philosophy, techniques, and curriculum. I’m simply an old fart who is enjoying the experience. It goes to what I told the class on my first day. I presented them with 15 Class Expectations, kind of like flags on a ski slalom course to show the downhill skier where he/she needs to go.
Number 8 on my list is “Expect to enjoy what you are learning!” There’s classrooms and times when straight lecture is the needed form, and there are other times when student input and discussion is the best road for discovery. I realize that I am not a grizzled veteran of the educational system, but I’ve listened to the stories of my sister, who taught university students who were looking towards careers as teachers, and my daughter who currently teaches 4th Grade. They found, and find, a balance between learning and enjoyment. My daughter greets her new class of students each year dressed up as a grandmother. Her students love her, and she loves her students!
I remember many of my teachers…the good, the bad, and the ugly. I remember the classes that I trudged to and from each day, wondering if there was an end in sight. My vision wasn’t on what I was learning, but rather on survival!
I replaced a teacher who the students loved. Several times in the past two weeks students, in referring back to him have begun sentences with the words, “Remember when we…”
I see it as an opportunity to guide students towards enjoying what they are learning, as opposed to turning them off to knowledge.
Number 10 on my list of expectations is “Expect to laugh…but never in a way that mocks someone else!”
Laughter is the saddle that keeps the student on the educational thoroughbred. We’ve laughed a lot these past two weeks as we’ve talked about “Supply and Demand”, “Taxes”, and other economic topics. They were tested on the material yesterday. I haven’t graded the papers yet, but I’m optimistic that almost all of them did well. If not…I may be blogging a retraction tomorrow!
As I would tell a story that made a point, and also cause laughter, students would raise their hands and share their own stories about similar experiences. Our laughter and chuckles bonded us on the road to understanding.
There is a definite connection between being in a new experience and the level of enjoyment of it. I understand that. After being a pastor for 36 years I recognize that my enjoyment level had taken a dip. Being a rookie often comes with optimism and enthusiasm, before the blood of too many parent-teacher conferences gets sucked out of you. I may have only one week left in this teaching position before a new teacher is brought on board. Maybe that’s a good thing, because I’ll leave still in a state of enjoyment and a volume of laughter.
And will have learned a lot! Oh, that’s number 9 on my list of expectations for the students: “Expect to teach me as we go!”
Categories: children, coaching, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, classroom, economics, education, educational curriculum, enjoyment, expect to enjoy, Expectations, experience, laughter, learning, middle school, middle school students, rookie, social studies, students, teacher education, teacher substitute, teaching, teaching middle school
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November 23, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. November 23, 2016
I sat down on the couch to survey the crew. The crew consisted of our three grandkids: eight year old Jesse involved in a game of Super Mario Brothers; Corin (Rennie) scampering around the room as fast as a 20 month old body can go; and five year old Reagan whose attention was focused on the fact that her grandfather thought he was going to relax for a couple of minutes.
“Tell me a story, Granddad!”, she demanded as she plopped down on the couch beside me and draped her feet over my lap. “Tell me a story using my toes!”
A few weeks ago I was telling a story to her and Jesse from the same couch seat and I grabbed their feet as a visual aid to help me tell it. She giggled and giggled as I told the made up story about little piggies.
And Reagan never forgets! Her enjoyment in something translates into it becoming a tradition…thus two feet staring up at me with their multi-colored striped outfits!
“What story should I tell you? How about a story about a little worm named Squiggly?”
“Yes! Tell me a story about Squiggly!” Her toes wiggled in anticipation.
“Once upon a time there was a worm named Squiggly who decided he was a big enough worm to leave his Mommy Worm and crawl around by himself.”
“And did he have brothers and sisters?” Reagan likes to know all the details in any story I tell that I happen to be making up on the fly!
“Yes, he had many brothers and sisters, but he was the oldest worm child, so all of his worm siblings were still at home with Mommy Worm. So Squiggly said goodbye to his mom, they wrapped themselves around each other in one final worm hug, and off he went crawling through the dirt to discover what was on the other side of the mud patch.
“His mom probably missed him.”
“I’m sure she did. Your mom would miss you if you moved away, wouldn’t she?”
“I’m only five, Granddad!”, she informed me as she did the eye roll thing.
“Yes, I know…well, anyway, back to the story! Squiggly slowly crawled away, whistling his favorite worm song, “Way Up High In An Apple Tree.” He was all wiggly with excitement about the new places he was going to discover.”
“He probably misses his mommy.”
“Probably! After he had crawled across the mud patch and into the weed forest on the other side he got to thinking to himself, “I’d better find some place to sleep before nightfall.” He thought about the warmth of his mommy and remembered that he had left his worm blanket back at home. He got to thinking about the chilly darkness that would soon be upon him with no mom or snug covering to keep him warm.”
“He didn’t plan very well.”
“So he looked all around and around and finally…finally…he found a nice place that looked like it would be cozy and warm and almost like home.”
“Where was it?”
“It was right between two toes of a little girl named Reagan.” I burrowed one of my fingers between two of her toes and she squealed with tickling laughter. “Yes, it was right between two little toes,” I explained as she quivered with giggling. She pulled her feet off of my lap and hopped down to the floor. Her sister stared at her with a smile on her face.
About the time I took my next breath she was back on the couch, settling her feet into their place across my lap once again.
“And then what, Granddad?” For Reagan “story toes” have many chapters and episodes…and giggles!
Categories: children, Grandchildren, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: creative storytelling, enjoying grandkids, giggling, grand parenting, grandkids, kid's stories, kids laughing, laughter, storyteller, storytelling, tickling
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Words from WW Blog 