The Invisible Giant: a giant bedtime story about being heard

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2015

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(This giant bedtime story is one of our first to address real issues in our children’s development. This one is a simple story on making sure our children know their voices and opinions matter and that they make choices about their own bodies that we will listen to as parents and adults. Also, I love writing about giants)

Scorac (pronouced score-ack! she’d want you to know) was as tall as any giant her age. She played soccer as well as any giant her age. She also sang as loudly as any giant her age or older.

Scorac was, in many ways, what a giant would call “an average giant.”

Only, in one way, Scorac was not what other giants would call “an average giant.” Because Scorac was often invisible.

Invisibility wasn’t common in giants but it also wasn’t unheard of. From time to time, a young giant would be growing according to giant schedule and one day their parents and their loved ones simply wouldn’t be able to see them any more.

“Scorac, where are you? Your oatmeal is nearly ready and you must eat your breakfast before school,” her dad had called one morning at breakfast.

“I’m right in front of you dad, can’t you see me?” Scorac had answered, waving her arms frantically in front of his face.

“Oh shoot, you must have gone invisible then,” he said before returning to her preparation of the oatmeal.

And that was that.

The grown up giants didn’t often give much more thought to their invisible children beyond wanting to know where they were so they didn’t rip over them or accidentally spill their spaghetti because they had tried to sit down in a chair where a giant was already sitting. So, children giants didn’t often give much thought to their invisibility except for thinking of ways to be visible again.

  • they wore makeup;
  • they dyed their hair;
  • they spray painted their clothes;
  • they drew all over their arms; and,
  • they cried too often, hoping tears could be seen.

But Scorac was different. Scorac wanted to know why she had turned invisible. She wanted to help other giants not be invisible any more too.

So she thought of all the times she had felt invisible because thinking about things is a good way to learn about problems.

She thought about the times grown ups didn’t listen to what she had to say. When she said “no,” and she had been told “but it’s fun.” Or when she had said “stop,” and she had been told “but you’re laughing.”

The more she thought about this, the more she realized it happened quite often.


It’s time for sleep Scorac, let me give you a bedtime kiss,” her dad said at bedtime.

“I don’t want want,” Scorac had responded, because she really hadn’t wanted one.

“It’s just a kiss and I’m your dad.”

Kiss. Invisible.


“I love the tickle game!” her other dad had shouted in the middle of a particularly tickl-y tickle game.

“Me too dad, but I’d like to stop,” she said because her body was starting to hurt from tickles.

“No you don’t, you’re laughing too hard.”

Tickle. Invisible.


“You won’t see your cousins for another year, why don’t you give them a hug,’ her Aunt had suggested after a Christmas visit had ended.

“I’m feeling a little shy,” she had said because she was actually felling shy.

“Oh, they’re your family, give them a hug.”

Hug. Invisible.


She also remembered all the times both her dads had told her no and then had gotten bad at her when she didn’t listen.

“Well,” she thought to herself. “I want my voice to be heard. I don’t want to be invisible. And I’m going to sing from now on.”

So she thought of something she loved doing—singing. And she thought up a song she could sing to tell people how she felt. And she planned to sing this song every time she felt invisible. Because Scorac knew she had a voice and she knew that her voice was as important to have heard as any adult in her life.

Just thinking this way made Scorac a little more visible. She looked in the mirror of her bedroom and sang her song:

“I don’t want to do that, I’ve told you so.
‘Cause stop means stop and no means no.”

And then she could see her purple hair again.

She went on living her life, ready to sing her song any time someone made her feel invisible.

She played with her cousins. She built trains tracks with them and found salamanders with them and drew pictures of rainbows with them. And when it was time to say goodbye to them for the day and her Aunt asked her to give them a hug so she could take a picture, she sang:

“I don’t want to do that, I’ve told you so.
‘Cause stop means stop and no means no.”

And her aunt listened and Scorac glowed.


She played with her dads. She played Scrabble (she won) and played Snakes and Ladders (she lost) and played Make Up the Silliest Story You can (they tied). And when one of her dads insisted they play the tickle game, she sang:

“I don’t want to do that, I’ve told you so.
‘Cause stop means stop and no means no.”

And her dad listened and Scorac glowed.


She played with everyone all day long. And she got tired from this and eventually wanted to brush her teeth and put on her pyjamas and go to sleep. And when her dad asked if he could get a goodnight kiss because he’d miss her so much, she sang:

“I don’t want to do that, I’ve told you so.
‘Cause stop means stop and no means no.”

And her dad listened and Scorac glowed.

And so did her dad, who went to bed himself knowing there’d be other times for other goodnight kisses. And, most importantly, knowing his daughter knew how strong her voice was.

 

One response to “The Invisible Giant: a giant bedtime story about being heard”

  1. Melissa says:

    This story is beautiful. If it were a children’s book I would buy many copies for all the children I know and use it in my classroom. Thank you for sharing it.

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