Eli, Raconteur

Eli loves to tell stories. "Daddy," she often asks, "can I tell you a story?" (This is more a formulaic introduction to the tale than a request for permission; out comes the story, regardless of my answer.) Her stories are rich and imaginative, lacking nothing but a plot. This morning as I ate my cereal Eli stood on a chair in the middle of the living room and "told a story." This particular racconto was a syncretistic omnigatherum of elements drawn from The Prince of Egypt, The Little Mermaid, and elsewere. The story included spontaneous outbursts of poetry:

"Aaron held up a light--
That flickered in the night."

And of fantasy:

"There's that same Eel, coming out of the ceiling. But it's not a mean eel because he always fights. He always fights mean animals. But he's always nice to camels and horses."