The stories we tell our children are stories that come from the heart, bonding us in wide-eyed wonder through the magic of imagination. And we learn as much in the telling, as our children do in the listening.
Thing 1 was an only child for over five years. Thing 2’s arrival left her a bit shaken. Recently she confronted me, demanding to know who was “specialer”.
I replaced our usual bedtime storybooks with the story of The Baby in the Red Box. It did the trick:
“Once upon a time, long before you were born, but not long enough for me not to be born, I dreamt I heard a knock at my door.
When I got to the door, I found no-one. I looked to the left and to the right, and still I found no-one. The harder I looked the more I found no-one.
Just when I was about to close the door, I looked down, and finally I found something. But it was not the kind of thing that usually knocks on doors. It was a beautiful red box, right there on the doorstep.
I was sure there was something very special inside, because it was that kind of box.
Rub your ears and shake your brain, because when I tell you what I found in the box you are going to think your brain needs shaking and ears need rubbing.
Inside the box, covered in the soft tissues used to wrap very special things, was a BABY!
The most beautiful baby girl ever to be found in a box of any colour!
Who could’ve left a baby on my doorstep?
It was my friend Aunty Tish. There was a note in the box saying so.
I called her to check if she really did do such an odd thing. She had.
She had given me the baby as a Thank You present. Because I am pretty sure that is not allowed, I told her to come fetch the baby.
“Come quick”, I said, “I’m sure her mommy must be very, very sad and missing her beautiful baby girl.”
Aunty Tish did come to fetch the baby. But I was very sad to give her back. My heart was achy even after I woke up from the dream.
I told my boyfriend about the dream and how sad giving up the baby made me. He tried to make me feel better by saying: “Don’t you worry. We’ll have our very own baby girl someday, and we’ll call her Sparkle”.
I thought, “What an odd name to give a baby. Perhaps I should not have such a silly boyfriend!”
In time I did find a less silly guy to love. By then I had forgotten about that odd dream.
One by one the years went by. Then one day at your grandmother’s house, while I was pregnant with you, Uncle P announced: “I’m going to call the baby Sparks, and if it is a girl I’ll call her Sparkle!”
I had heard that name before, hadn’t I?
And just like that, my mind was full of that long ago dream. Quietly, to myself, I wondered if the baby in my tummy was the same baby from the dream. I really hoped so, because she was such a special baby.
Giving birth is such busy work, that when you were born my mind was certainly not full of any dreams. Until I saw you, that is.
Do you know who you looked like?
(This is where she screams in delight)
“The baby in the red box!”
You looked exactly like the baby in the red box.
Then when your grandmother saw you for the very first time she said, “She has such big, BEAUTIFUL, sparkly eyes. What is her name?”
“Sparkle. Her name is Sparkle,” said I.
You know what that means?
It means you and I picked each other a long, long time ago.”
This is a true story.
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