virgin cherry bomb There is nothing I can think of that can compare to the imagination of a young child. Where do they come up with some of their ideas? Their creativity simply amazes me and, if I could tap into that, I would never be faced with a blank computer screen again. Unfortunately, as we grow older and are forced to face reality we tend to lose our ability to dream. What a shame!
Inasmuch as I believe in imagining I have always encouraged the children I have known in their pretend games, at least as long as I was sure they knew we were pretending. For that reason when my son told me three-year-old Michael had a `pretend' friend named Jordan, I was delighted.
Jordan went everywhere with Michael for awhile. At times it became very disconcerting for us adults to be told that we were sitting on Jordan, or had closed the door on him. Jordan's appearance and age would change quite frequently as well. That did not matter to Michael. This was his special friend.
There was no task Jordan could not handle either, whether rowing a boat that consisted of four pieces of paper on the living room floor or taking care of Michael's vast `farm' holdings. Sometimes when my brilliant little grandson comes to visit Jordan stays home to look after Mummy and Daddy or is delegated to be any place Michael can not be but feels he should.
The row boat incident became a sharing 'lesson' for me. Michael put the papers on the floor, making sure they were in proper alignment. He then asked me if I would like to come on his boat. Michael, being captain, sat in the front with Jordan manning the oars and I was tasked to row in the back. I was not aware that we were on any particular quest until Michael stepped out of the boat to go to the store. (Of course, any grandchild of mine certainly will always have the ability to walk on water.) It turned out to be a pet store. Michael approached the airtight stove (the counter, you see) and asked to buy a dog.
"How much is that dog? Twenty bucks? Okay, here," as he pretends to pull the money out of his pocket. The newly purchased "puppy" was placed carefully in the craft and Jordan and I were ordered to resume rowing. Four times we went to this store. Now we have four dogs, Jordan, Michael and me sitting in the boat. Finally, after admonishing me several times for sitting on the puppies, Michael, with a great deal of exasperation, ordered me out of the boat.
"Mama," he said, "if you can't stop sitting on the puppies you have to get out of the boat. You have to share you know."
Jordan is not Michael's sole imaginary playmate. An only child, at least for now, Michael changes the size of his family regularly. His desire for a sister has produced anywhere from one to five female siblings at the drop of a hat. Keeping up becomes quite a challenge.
An animal lover of the first order, Michael also has had a pretend dog which he named "Chitid". Don't ask. I don't know where he gets the names. This particular moniker was a great source of amusement for the family until my son actually had a guest register at the hotel in which he works under the name "Mr. Chitid".
A sometimes farmer, Michael has five farms, only one house though. When we went to Wonderland for the day Michael informed us that the farm was `open' but Jordan and his sisters were looking after the animals. Another time `bad guys' had come and killed all the animals, but, we were told, Michael had called the vet and `they're all better now'; would that life and death could be so simple.
This past week Michael and his `Mampa' had to take our car in to be fixed. (It's a guy thing, you know.) Well, our little blue Sprint became an 18-wheeler while at the garage. Quite a trick, don't you think? Any time after that, when Jim and Michael went anywhere alone they were truck drivers. Imagine my surprise when on the next trip we went together, I was told to sit in the back because Michael had to help Jim drive. When I refused to fold myself in half to climb into the back seat I was told that was `okay' because now we were on a fire truck and Michael had to work the siren. Since it was about a 32 kilometre drive from the mall to home, I knew I could not participate in the charade that long. My ears could not stand the undulating sounds emanating from the back seat. I tried, in true adult fashion, to employ logic, in an effort to preserve my sanity.
"Michael, we have reached the fire now. Let's put it out." That didn't work because in Michael's logic, we had not stopped driving. Sometimes reality becomes very convenient for this little person. Once more I tried. (I don't give up easily.) "Michael, if we take too long to reach the fire the house will have burned down."
The response: "That's okay, Mama. The firemen will build a new one this afternoon." The siren continued all the way home.
That trip became almost as bad as the one on July First when we covered the same ground listening to Michael sing his favourite song, "Oh, Can-da-da". Unfortunately, those were also the only words he knew.
This summer we have played a lot of pretend games as well as real ones. We have had sharks, dinosaurs; several types, of which Michael knows the names because his Aunt Sheryl taught him when he was a baby; any number of different farm animals; farmer and tow truck driver. That was one of my favourites. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Michael said he took his tow truck to jobs in Africa. The remainder of the weekdays were spent on calls around the rest of the world.
I will be very sorry to see these little characters disappear, as we all know they will. I am sure their removal from his everyday life will herald an end to a time when trips to Mama and Mampa's house are the highlight of Michael's summer `baycation'.
Michael is almost a young man now but we still have lots of fun. I must say I do miss Jordan occasionally and all his other friends.
