Imagine That!

My Little Preschooler
When I was a little girl, I had imaginary friends. Don't worry, I had real "flesh and blood" friends as well. But my imaginary friends were companions to me no matter where I was. I talked to myself, carrying conversations with invisible people who had names. In addition, I utilized my imagination and dreamt up fanciful places with intriguing characters. I had time to pen silly stories that involved horses, mysteries, and childhood drama. Some nights I would just lay in bed with my eyes w-i-d-e open while I rehearsed a possible scene in my head for my "novel". I remember those days of innocence. What a beautiful time of life that was!

And now I see similar tendencies in my daughter! It makes me smile with joy!

I caught her in the washroom today, babbling away. "Who are you talking to?" I inquired.

"The veggie tales," she responded.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Over there," she pointed to a location in the washroom. I grinned.

Lately she has been walking around the house, with her purse slung over her shoulder. "Dear, please play with your brother," I implored as my little one year threatened to touch another forbidden item in the kitchen.

"Okay," she replied, "We are going shopping. Come on J.! We're going to Walmart!"

Other days I can almost see the little wheels turning in her head. She's thinking, processing, and trying to make sense of her world. "I'm beige. J's beige. Daddy's beige. Mommy's brown," she concluded. I doubled over laughing. "You are correct dear," I thought to myself, "When was white ever a color???"

She is discovering the art of language, the intricacies of our spoken and written word that are challenging at best. Yesterday I said, "We are running out of time. We gotta get supper on the road!" Sheer confusion washes over the face of my preschooler. "Why are we going to eat supper on the road? How are we going to do that?" she asked with her palms out to symbolize the conundrum. Yes, imagine that! A family of four squatting on hot pavement, eating a meal in picnic fashion. Bizarre!

I don't remember the day when my childhood imagination started to fade. Nonetheless, I miss the desire to compose crazy stories with no logic. I wish I could dream fanciful futures for myself without analysing the feasibility of the scenario. When did I stop playing pretend? When did the absurdities in English become normal? And when did I stop being a child?

I don't know. But I am grateful for the precious moments I possess as a mother to see the world through a child, once again. It is refreshing!

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