“Mommy,” he said, in a tone of voice that implies a monologue to follow. “I am going to tell you a story from my music class at school.” No pause that might allow someone else to cut in. “There was a little boy and he had a dragon. And he didn’t do any of the things that dragons are supposed to do. He was really nice. And then one day the boy went away and the dragon was really sad.”
There the story ended. He looked at me expectantly. “Was this dragon named Puff?” I asked.
“Yes,” he declared, as though I always know the names for the characters in his stories.
“And was the little boy named Jackie Paper?”
“Yes,” after a moment’s thought.
“And did you learn a song about them?” I went on
“YES, Mommy! Have you heard that song once before?”
Once or twice, baby. I have heard that song once or twice.