So said the Camel. Or, anyway, that’s what Helen and Gerard said that I said he said. I don’t remember. All I know is that one minute the kids and I were comfily huddled under a blanket, where I was reading aloud from “Aesop’s Fables,” and the next minute I was startled by kiddie squeals. Apparently, while reading, I’d slipped into a half-sleep and started replacing Aesop’s words with torpor-induced gibberish. This was not the first incident of its kind, just the one that won the Lewis Carroll award for Most Bizarre Sentence.
The fact that I keep dozing off during story time makes me feel bluer than an imaginary sea monkey. In the days when I could sit down on the couch without losing consciousness, story time was one of the highlights of my day. (The kids liked it, too.) Now it seems that story time as I’ve known it is no longer practicable. What to do? Maybe I’ll have the kids read to me instead – after they’ve fed me my custard and Senior Jazzy Juice. Maybe story time will be replaced with family nap time. Or bingo.
Or maybe I’ll rescue story time by doing something truly radical: get to bed on time.