One of my memories that I cherish is telling stories to my daughter Jade who is now 14 – she won’t let me tell her stories at bedtime anymore. Back when I first met her she was seven years old and was looked like one of those weeds you see in a garden that have been neglected and un-watered during a drought.
After five years of filling her up night after night with stories – she seems to have filled out all right. I would tell her stories from the heart. Long sagas with out end of adventuring princesses and traveling horses. Now that she is too cool for such – "Dad, bed time stories are for kids!" I keep her watered with a steady diet of Ursula Le Quin and other fantasy writers. But I would rather be reading to her from Tatterhood every night