Storytelling runs strong in my veins. It’s why I keep a journal, love to read biographies, and am enamored to see the craft in my children.

After Olivine draws a picture I try to record what she has narrated to me as the story. Some days there is so much insight.

I call this one “little sister fantasy” as she draws a house with her brothers outside of it. How does she even know what running away is?

And her signature looks like “Olivine-wow” but it actually says “Olivine-mom.”Here is highlighter with marker and pen:And some boredom expressed about the days where we drive the boys to and from school:There is also a growing fascination with tape, because she has found the drawer where I keep it. A little bit of singing about “money and momma.” Then some sadness in her voice to tell me her daddy is at work and clearly missing from the picture. Another added dimension is the letters to indicate who each person is. The scribbles are her own attempts to write her sentences before I came along.Then there are memories. Make believe or not. I am unsure. She remembers a time when it was mostly daddy and not so much mommy. I didn’t take offense. I am guessing this is her way of processing what I know to be an on-going transition.I love these peeks inside her brain and thinking. I love that everyone looks happy.

When I notice the printer has once again been emptied of blank paper by our little artist, I drag out the felt board and let her go to town. She can tell stories in this space as well:I am drawn to listen to the detail about the girl combing her hair, or the turtle who is carrying her babies, and the kitty eating its sandwich so nice. And when I inquire about the fire she explains that is how the girl with the hat is heating her coffee. Ingenious!