Granddaddy tells a story

I'm lying in one of the twin bed while Granddaddy and Violet are in the other. Phil usually puts Vi to bed at home (we started this system when we no longer wanted her to nurse after she brushed her teeth for fear of further decay), and she chose Granddaddy to sub for him tonight. But after 45 minutes of him reading and snuggling and telling stories, she's started demanding "I want my mama!" and crying. He bargains with her. She agrees to go to sleep if I just come in the room. So here I am. Dad's got a flashlight he's training on the ceiling.

"When I was a little boy," he starts his story, "I had these weird growths on my back."

I'm already laughing. I know where he's going with this story. "And everyone was worried about me. But one day I said to them, these aren't growths, they're wings! And I can fly, just like a bird!" Dad makes shadow wings on the ceiling and Violet flaps her arms excitedly. "Just like bird!" she agrees.

"And I would fly all over the city," says Granddaddy, his shadow wings flapping. "Sometimes I would swoop down and see animals, like, um, what can I make here? A dog!"

"Ruff ruff!" says Violet.

"And um, a duck! Quack quack!" Dad's duck looks more like a dinosaur.

Violet is laughing and excited. She'll never go to sleep this way. But how can I interrupt this moment? He wiggles his two fingers in the air. "These are two little bugs! Barney and Betty. And they're bun bugs! They want to run right into your little butt!" She is cackling madly as the "bugs" run up her leg to tickle her.

"No, no!" she says. But I think she likes the little bugs. And her Granddaddy, who tells such good stories. His eyes are soft when he looks at her. He nestles down next to her happily, exactly where he wants to be. I know just how he feels.