When you were a little girl....

Every night, while tucking James in, I tell him a story, pray with him, and sing him a song. For the last few months, all he wants are 'when you were a little girl stories.' He loves to hear stories of snow forts and our mud pie factory and the multiple times that we baked plastic spiders and flies into Grammy's muffins. I've told him of the tree houses we built in California, the camping trips where we found tadpole eggs, and the time I opened the front door to walk to the bus and found several horses grazing in my front yard. At this point, its getting really hard to come up with stories. I know they are there, somewhere in the depths of my memory, but its getting harder every night! On top of that, he wants me to sing 'when you were a little girl songs' to him too. Songs I have long forgotten have been dredged up. Songs such as 'Give Me Oil In My Lamp,' along with its accompanying verses such as 'Give me gas in my Ford, I'll keep truckin' for the Lord' and 'Give me hot sauce on my taco, I'll keep preachin' in Morocco.' Good stuff. Fortunately, James likes hymns and I know a lot of those. After all, I can only sing so many choruses of 'And if the devil doesn't like it, he can sit on a tack!' before I go nuts.