Swiss Miss, take me away!

Last night, my daughter laid her head on my lap and asked me to tell her a story. A real story. In our house Real means made-up by me. You see, I am the real deal. Whoot!!

So I told her a tale about a mean woman (Mean Molly Mommy) who stole all the candy canes from Santa's candy cane garden. (You know that he has one of those, right?) And Santa's four elves and his neon toothed reindeer, Briggy (we are original), went on a journey to get them back... from the South Pole...because that is where MMM lived.

They discovered that she loved hot chocolate and so they made the most delicious hot chocolate that she had ever tasted. (Cream, chocolate...lots of chocolate, whipped cream and a little bit of Christmas cheer). She wanted the recipe so bad, but the only way they would give it to her is if she gave back all the candy canes so that all the girls and boys around the world could have a candy cane in their stocking.

She promised that she would give them back. At least she had planned to until she remembered that she had melted all of the candy canes in a big pot. But luckily they were able take the melted candy canes and put them in circle molds. That was the year that children all over the got mints in their stockings, not candy canes.
Not sure why I told you the whole story. But there it is. However, that is not the point of this post.

While telling the story, Kyla was lying on my lap and I was running my fingers through her hair. When the story was done, she sat up and said it was her turn to tell a story.

"Okay. But that means I get to lay my head on your lap now," I told her. She obliged.

"Are you feeling squished, Kyla?" I asked, concerned that she might feel claustrophobic.

"No. I feel more like....like there is a huge hippo on my lap."

Mint, anyone?

(Talking about water on Ooops...there goes my butt Blog.)