April 17, 2008

Imagine that.

I'm all for children with vivid imaginations. Heck, I was the kid who blamed every bad thing I did on my imaginary friend Lawtha. Lawtha, who I think hung around for the entire year I was seven, only left when my Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. My grandma would open the sliding glass door, toss Lawtha outside and I, as a result, would be perfectly well-behaved for the duration of their visit. That crafty Lawtha would sneak back in though the moment my grandparents headed for home. A girl can only take being perfectly well-behaved for so long you know.

Michal and Kenna are both wildly imaginative. They are forever pretending to be Mommy or Daddy, or each other, which is particularly funny since they talk in the same high voice I do when I'm pretending to be them. They pretend to be animals, or pretend to feed their stuffed animals, or pretend to be animals feeding their baby stuffed animals. My kitchen chairs are forever lined up as an airplane, a car or a rocket ship making its way to California or Grandma's house. I've been given countless checkups by the two doctors in my house and have been told, "You're just fine" more time than I can count. It's forever someone's birthday in our house and I open "presents" daily and exclaim, "It's exactly what I wanted" each and every time. There is a lot of playing "baby" going on around here too but there are usually no dolls involved. Instead Michal and Kenna create "baby toys" out of hangers and puzzle pieces and plastic toys and take turns laying on the floor batting at the creation while saying "goo goo ga ga." My favorite is when I'm asked to provide imaginary bottles or pacis and my "babies" throw them or swallow them and then declare that they are "sassy babies." Last night Michal was a dog and Kenna was a cat as we walked upstairs for bed -- me on two feet, them down on all fours. Michal told me, "You need to hold my leash" while Kenna commented, "I'm a cat. I don't need a leash."

Yep, my two imagine a lot.

This morning at breakfast I was once again asked to call them "Madame" since I guess our kitchen is now a swanky French bistro and I am its sole employee -- until of course Eric comes in for the dinner shift. Michal asked me for more water and I guess I didn't respond with 20%-tip-inducing speed so she waited a few seconds and then said, "Excuse me, waitress, I'd like some more water please."

Waitress? Perhaps I need to invite Lawtha over for a job interview. I'm sure after 30 or so years she's not so precocious any more and this swanky bistro could use the help. And if it doesn't work out I'm sure I could ask Michal and Kenna to put her on the next kitchen-chair airplane to Grandma's house. After all, my mom has already had a lot of experience dealing with Lawtha . . . and everyone needs a little imagination in their house.

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