Last night I was snuggling Kyrie to get her to sleep, and she asked me to tell her a story. The storytelling went something like this:

Kyrie: “I want you to tell me a story about Princess Me and a hat.”
Me: “Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Kyrie. She loved to wear hats. Her very favorite hat was red, with a beautiful yellow flower.”
Kyrie: “A red flower.”
Me: “Okay, a red flower. One day, she was walking in the field to watch the beautiful white horses run in the tall grass.”
Kyrie: “Brown horses.”
Me: “And there were brown horses too.”
Kyrie: “And I had blonde hair.”
Me: “Yes, you had blonde, curly hair. And you were very beautiful.”
Kyrie: “And I had a red hat. And my red hat had a red flower.”
Me: “Yes…and Princess Kyrie was taking a walk…and she started to walk down a pebbly road, and a gust of wind blew her hat off her head. She started to run after it, but the wind was carrying it too quickly, and she became too tired, and the hat blew further and further away…”
Kyrie, almost crying: “And I was sad. And my hat blew away in the wind. And I couldn’t get my hat…! (voice quivering)”
Me, quickly: “And then a prince came and caught the red hat for Princess Kyrie and gave it to her and she was so happy! The End.”
Kyrie, relieved: “I want another story.”