I forgot to mention that our weekend activities included our usual trip downtown to the farmer’s market and the coffeehouse. If we ever manage to get Ava there during the work week, there’s not usually time for a book, but we typically do some reading on the weekend.
The book she’s looking at here is something about a little tiger who tells all sorts of fantastic tales about his parents and the place where he used to live on the other side of the jungle. Then his parents show up and make him apologize for exaggerating, or something. There’s a moral in there somewhere.
Which reminds me, lately I’ve been telling Ava my own fantastic stories to distract her when she’s in a mood or when she’s getting ready for bed. She’ll say, “Daddy, tell me a long tale.” And we’ll say, “You mean a tall tale?” “Yes, that.” So I make up a story about some weird person I saw at Hy Vee or something, and she sits there and waits to hear the funny or outlandish parts.