tell me a story

I’m starting a log of the hilarious (?) story requests I receive from Annie and Paul (but mostly Annie), for their entertainment and sensemaking, and you tell me when to call the child psychologist.

  • Tell me a story about when Dory got stung by jellyfish.
  • Tell me a story about when Elsa killed a pig and cooked it for her family.
  • Tell me a story about Bambi, when the hunters shot his mother and she died.
  • Tell me a BRAND NEW story, and it has to be a LONG story. You can decide what it’s about.
  • Tell me a story about Elsa when Elsa was a gnat and a spider got her.
  • Tell me a story about when Elsa put her monster truck in the bath.
  • Tell me a story about when Holly Shiftwell DIED.


For-real questions Annie has asked at the dinner table the last two nights:

Monday: “But how do you make the babies start growing in your tummy?” (I punted with, “We have a book about that we should read!”)

Tuesday: “Wait, are these chicken legs from a REAL chicken?” (It got dark real fast after that. Muscles, dismembered bodies, and Bambi’s mom did come up.)

What will Wednesday hold? STAY TUNED.