Kid's Abounding Imagination

Children have a different way of looking at things than adults do. Adults can be quite boring to a child. To an adult a box is just that: a box. To a child, a box becomes a plethora of objects, gadgets, and other variety of things. If the box is big enough, it can because a vehicle covered in marker drawings and stickers. At least that is how is has been in my house. I have two little girls who have quite an imagination. I have seen a simple cardboard box transform into a house for Polly Pockets, a spaceship for aliens, a bed for a baby doll, a place to climb into and hide. I could go on and on. How do we as adults lose that vast sense of imagination? Is it something we lose during puberty? All those hormones raging in us causes those imagination brain cells to die?

I can’t tell you how many times I have watched my children in awe as they turn a plain piece of paper into a myriad of crafts. It used to bother (ok, actually annoy) me when my girls would raid the printer for paper and delve into my container of markers. That is until I noticed one day that they could make their masterpieces come alive. You give my girls a popscicle stick, a piece of yarn, some tape, some glue, an old egg carton, and a cotton ball, and you would be amazed at their innovative handiwork. I could keep them busy for hours on end with all sorts of things I was ready to toss into the garbage.

Forget their creativity with what adults deem as useless junk; my girls have been known to construct the most elaborate stuffed animal colonies. All perfectly placed in such a way that each stuffed animal face could be seen in the massive colony. They take special care as they place and play with each toy. To their eyes, they have created the most magnificent creation ever placed on the earth.

BOOM BOOM BOOM STOMP STOMP STOMP... In I walk. My eyes opening largely surveying the scene. The girls expect me to say something like, “Wow, look at this! It is wonderful!” But all my adult brain can think of is, “Look at this mess.” So I yell at them to pick up their mess. CRASH... Their hearts plummet. Their mommy didn’t appreciate their intricate work. It is at that precise moment, they become incapacitated and unable to put back all the stuffed animals they previously just took out. Whining, kicking, screaming. The girls claim it is too much work. Being the adult I am, I cannot for the life of me figure out why they can bring them out but can’t clean it up.

That vicious cycle has gone on for the last couple years. One day a light bulb went off in my post-puberty-non-imaginative brain. A-ha! It takes us adults a long time to get it. :)