Our kids have gigantic imaginations.
Sometimes they pretend to be something simple, like race cars as they rev their engines, zooming around with nonexistent steering wheels turning in their hands. Or they might be superheroes – tying the corners together on baby blankets for capes as they “save” the toddler from every blessed thing she wants to do.
A bit too often, they are dinosaurs stomping around. They pull their arms back, draping two claw fingers out like T-Rex’s as they lean forward with rear ends poked out far enough behind to serve as adequate tails. They are not allowed to be dinosaurs at Walfarts or Costco or church.
Recently I took a few days to declutter our house, going through everything room by room. When finished, I was pretty darn pleased with how much I had either thrown away or donated.
The next weekend, the kids reported that the neighbor dog got into our trash again overnight.
They volunteered – somewhat eagerly as I now recollect – to clean it up too, which made me super impressed and proud of their initiative.
The week after that, I visited them out at their fort and was astonished at the sheer amount of junk out there. Empty bottles, worn out brushes, papers, tags, containers, mismatched socks, worn out baby stuff, lids, old devotional magazines, you name it they had it. Where on earth did it all come from? It took me a quick minute to recognize it all, and then it dawned on me *how* they had come to acquire all of these fine goods. Their faces beamed with pride as they explained what each of their items were used for: tags as driver’s licenses, magazines for wall pictures, socks as pouches and so on. Honestly, I’m not sure whether to chalk this one up to creativity or pack ratting, but hey maybe it’s some of both.
We’ve been watching The Chronicles of Narnia and so very recently the kids are princes, princesses, kings and queens. I gotta say this stateliness has some refreshing aspects to it! However, today I was in the bathroom relieving my bladder when my son waltzed in, carrying his pretend sword. “Get out” said I, “I’m going potty”. Nevertheless he was fully fixated upon his quest and I don’t believe he even heard. He stood before me and solemnly asked if his mission this afternoon could be to clean up the house instead of having a quiet time. Eager for him to be on his merry way, I agreed that’d be fine. He then thrust the point of his sword to the ground, KNEELED before me, and deeply bowing his head said soberly, “Your wish is my command, your Majesty.” The irony of myself being seated upon our humble porcelain throne with his regal gravity rendered me speechless, I literally couldn’t even laugh.
Anyways, if you visit us or drive past our house, you now know why it looks like a Goodwill dumpster blew up out there. If you come inside, our home may be overtaken by Feral Critters or Imperial Monarchs. Just be sure to lock the door to the Sovereign Seat of Power room should your presence be required there and you’ll be fine.
Honestly though sometimes their antics bring extra noise, awkwardness and mess—can I just say l love our kids to death in whatever form or fashion they find themselves. Childhood is beautiful; and overall I think their imaginations are pretty cool too.