"There's a movie in my mind!"

I was putting the boys to bed after a busy evening.

We had walked the woods looking for critters trying to avoid being carried away by the mosquitoes that were more like the flying monkeys in Wizard of Oz.  We each had sticks and we were flailing around trying to bat away these little creatures hell bent on drawing blood.

Our walks are two-fold in purpose.

First, it's always a great bonding time with my sons walking in the wild.  This particular evening we were able to collect different color leaves, find sticks that look like weapons, look for snakes down by our neighbor's ponds, and climb trees.  These are things I remember doing when I was a little boy, so it gives me an escape into the nostalgia of my own childhood.

Second, it wears them down so that when it comes to bedtime, they are ready to hit the hay.  If they don't get worn out during the day, bedtime can be a long, drawn-out nightmare.  So these walks in the woods tire them out and eventually knock them out when it's time to go to sleep.  Call it a little boys sleep-aide.

After we got home from traipsing around the woods, we grabbed a snack before bed.  I think they muscled down a granola bar or something semi-healthy like that.  They brushed their bucks, changed their clothes, went to the bathroom, and climbed into their beds.

"Dad, can you make up a story about my dog?" Caleb asked holding out his droopy-eared canine stuffed animal.

"Oh, I don't know guys...it's been a busy night and I think we're all tired and ready to hit the sack!"

They weren't buying it.

"Just one story, dad.  You haven't done one in a long time."

Dad-guilt swept over me.  These guys know which buttons to push to get their way.

I grabbed the puffy dog and took a deep breath.  It was time to clear my mind so I could make up a story out of thin air.  I had no plot coming to mind when all the sudden I imagined a doghouse right next to a dumpster down in the 'hood.  So I ran with it.

In nutshell, this little dog, who I named Buckeroo, had a master who had a pretty wife and a new little baby.  He was laying in his doghouse with his backside under the roof and his head just outside looking about out of curiosity.  He was waiting for his master's family to get home and it was growing dark outside.  Recently, at around dusk, a raccoon would climb into the dumpster and pick through the trash looking for scraps to eat.  Night after night he would hear this furry bandit and would cower backwards into his doghouse out of fear.

As I was telling this story to the boys, I tried to emphasize how he was a puppy, but that he really longed to be a dog.  He wanted to be brave, but he was scared.  They loved this part of the story cause I think it strikes a chord with boyhood and manhood.  I tried to keep that theme throughout the rest of the story.

But we needed something scary to happen, something risky to overcome.

So I had the thought to turn the raccoon into a 'rabid raccoon'.  Caleb raised his hand and told me he knew what that meant from something he watched on an animal show.  I told them it was very dangerous to be bitten by a rabid raccoon because their eyes bugged out and they growled with sharp teeth dripping with diseased.  A simple bite could kill.

Buckeroo could hear the scratching inside the dumpster and he was scared, but then he thought about his master coming home with the family, and the way they would sometimes put down the carseat on the porch as they unlocked the door.  Buckeroo imagined the raccoon getting close to the baby and biting her, and it filled him with bravery.  He felt the fear of being a puppy, but he also felt the boldness of a dog growing inside him.

Just then, he heard the raccoon open up the top of the dumpster climbing down to the ground, he moved toward him and as he did, the raccoon looked toward him with his beady little black eyeballs peering into his soul.  He could tell that he was, in fact, rabid.  He knew what he must do and quickly.  He would have to kill the raccoon to protect his master's baby.

The raccoon jumped after Buckeroo and chased him around the dumpster again and again, but as Buckeroo was being chased, he ran so fast that in time he was actually chasing after the raccoon from behind.  I acted out the chase in such a way that Buckeroo finally snuck up behind the raccoon and sunk his teeth into the back of his neck, clamping down and breaking it with one clench of his strong jaw.  The raccoon lay still on the ground and Buckeroo felt something change inside him.

Before this moment, he felt like a puppy, but after he killed the rabid raccoon, he felt like a dog.  Just then his master's family arrived at home and as they put the carseat down on the porch and unlocked the door, he felt a sense of satisfaction that he had kept them safe.

"Hey boy, hey Buckeroo! You're such a good boy--Buckeroo's a good boy, isn't he?!" his master said as he opened the door and closed it behind him.

Little did he know.

As I ended the story, Caleb shot up in his bed his back arched in pure excitement.

"Dad, there's a movie in my mind!"

I knew what he was talking about, but I inquired further.

"What do you mean, buddy?"

"I mean there is a movie in my head when you're telling the story.  I can see the dumpster and the doghouse.  I can hear the scratching noises and the growling raccoon.  The little baby in the carseat. It's all in my mind, like a movie!"

"You know what that's called, buddy?"

"What?" he asked.

"That's called imagination.  That's something God created us with, isn't that so cool?"

He and Joshua began talking about the movie in their minds and retelling the story I just told them.  I bent down and gave them both kisses on the forehead and told them that I loved them.  By the look on their faces, they already knew that.

Sometimes the way you tell a boy that you love him is by telling him stories of adventure at bedtime.  It's one of their love languages.