"Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?" I checked for any books on his shelf.
"I'm not a baby," he retorted.
I cast a glare over my shoulder. "I never said you were. Big kids deserve a little tender love and care every once in a while. When I was fifteen, my father was still reading to me. We used to play these chest games and hang out in his office when he was in town. You are not too old to be treated with care. So, do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"
His shoulders bounced.
Not sure was closer to yes than no. Small children always loved when their parents read them bedtime stories. I always dreamt of doing this. Of course, in my fantasies, my child was way younger, but Little Alzar had to do.
All the books on the shelves were encyclopedias and deity history books. None of fictional stories.
I decided to create a story. Humans did it all the time. Some were complete foolishness while others made sense. I, too, had a creative mind.
