storytelling, sleeptalking

it was juancho's bedtime and he wanted me to read a book. the only children's book in our house that bore any resemblance to his own books was an old, poorly illustrated, hardbound antique with talking animals. it would have to do. juancho was too young for an entire roald dahl novel.

instead of letting me read the entire story from beginning to end, juanch interrupted me every 3 seconds with "tita eng,* what's this?" and i willingly obliged him with a response.

if you haven't tried to read aloud at bedtime, here's a bit of useful info: the thing about reading a storybook to a child at night is that it's tremendously sleep-inducing to everyone within hearing proximity. which is supposed to come as no surprise, except i don't think the reader should fall asleep before the readee.

another thing you should know (but is not entirely useful) is i sleeptalk (i also sleepwrite, but that's another story). a few years ago, when i was in that special place between wakefulness and dreamland, i told a friend who was driving me home to step on it and follow the car ahead of us because my sister was being kidnapped. he never let me hear the end of it. probably because it happened more than once.

anyway, ...

"tita eng, what's this?" "(in a loud, animated pitch) it's a frog!!!"

"tita eng, what's this?" "(in a softer, calmer tone) it's a pig."

"tita eng, what's this?" "(in a whisper) it's ... an ... e ... le ... pha ..."

"tita eng, what's this?" "it's my work!"

at that point, i jolted upright and the image of pending work in my mind's eye was erased and replaced by frogs and pigs and e-le-phas.

the good news is, i don't think juancho noticed.

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*that's me.