His Dogness

Although tradition demands that people dig up buried treasure with shovels, Doobins likes heavy equipment. So when Sparkle Girl and Doobins dug up a treasure chest in one of the bedtime stories that I make up as I go along, I had them use a backhoe.

Audience participation is an integral part of these stories. Partly that’s because both of them are regularly inspired to offer suggestions about what should happen next – some of which I take and some of which I ignore – and partly because, when you’re making up a story as you go along, asking the audience what should come next can be a big help when you hit a mental snag.

And so it was when they threw open the top of the treasure chest in this story.

Sure, I could have stuck with tradition and said that, when they looked inside, they saw gold doubloons and emeralds and rubies and other jewels. And I was fully prepared to do that if I couldn’t think of anything snappier. But, in order to buy myself a moment to see whether I could come up with something, I said, “And what do you think they saw inside?”

Without missing a beat, Sparkle Girl said, “Car parts.”

She paused for a moment, looking as if she were examining the contents in her mind (and she may have been) and added, “I think there was a steering wheel in there.”

No way I could top that. So that’s what we went with.

OK. That’s the end of that anecdote. Now on to one starring Mr. Doobins.

He and I are over at my house. I’m working on the computer in my bedroom. He is the dining room playing with toys. He comes into the room where I’m working looking like a man who is up to something.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Oh, I’m just thinking,” he said.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Pez.”

“Are you thinking you need one?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Subtle approaches like that should be rewarded. I went into the kitchen and got a pack.