HerdingBubbles Gallery

Holding hands to Walmart

Resa — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 14:44:47 +0000

I made my mommy and my daddy. They’re holding hands.
They’re going to Walmart to buy something. They’re gonna buy stuff. They’re gonna buy beans.
Kendall: Lunchables?
No, they’re just gonna buy tomatoes, sugar and chicken.

Someone to watch over me

Resa — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 18:39:56 +0000

When J was 4 years old, he enjoyed dramatic play situations where the story gave him a chance to be a puppy, a baby or someone who was stuck in the mud. He seemed to seek out opportunities for his classmates (most often girls, but also boys, if they were willing) to take care of him.

When he told this story, a 4-year-old girl (B) with whom he frequently played, was also at the story table.
J: “I’m scared. I’m scared. I wanna go to bed. I’m gonna get hurt by the sun and then I be dead.
Doggie kill the monster.”
B felt compelled to help tell the story.
“I’ll save you. The monster won’t get you.”
J: “I wanna go home. My daddy and my mommy are dead. Down there.”
B: “Your mommy and your daddy died?”

At this point both children went off to play. Someone else was waiting to tell me a story, so I was unable to follow up with more questions for J.

When an issue is troubling a child (and separation anxiety is a recurring theme for young children), they use story to revisit the topic. If a child cannot find a classmate to nurture him or her during dramatic play, story dictation with an adult can provide an outlet for fears and anxieties.

J is trying to understand a variety of topics:
Why can’t I stay home every day?
What are adults saying when they tell me they need to put sunscreen on my face before I go outside?

He uses his story to comfort himself (“Doggie kill the monster”) with a thought that seems unrelated to the rest of his ideas. Thoughts that appear out of the blue are common when children tell stories.

B, his friend, does her part by choosing one of his fears, the monster, and offering to save him.

This is my castle.

Resa — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 13:46:45 +0000

This story came from a girl who had been creating elaborate drawings for over a year, but often responding with “I don’t know,” whenever I asked for the story. In response to my comments and questions (in italics) about her castle picture, a full story emerged.

Is there a story?
This is my castle. I made stairs and a window and a door.
What are you doing in your castle?
I’m waiting for somebody to get me.
Does anyone come in your story?
Yeah.
Who?
Hailey. And I made a rainbow right here. Dots. They’re little tiny bubbles.
What do they do?
They help me get out of the witch’s castle. Then my flowers destroyed the witch. And my bubbles took her hat. And my bubbles poured water on her and the witch is melted. And my little flowers and my rainbow helped me get out of the cage. And my pink thing right here is another rainbow and tried to get my big flower and my grass tried to get me out of the window. And my beautiful red clouds and my beautiful green thing and my beautiful black thing and my beautiful brown thing.