Kids have wild and vibrant imaginations. Imaginations that also have some seriously long-distance endurance.
Nearly any adult playing pretend or listening to a kid tell a story they’re making up as-they-go can start to look around with slightly frantic eyes after a while, looking around for some indication of an end to it. Then the realization that there is no end starts to sink in; that the little one could seemingly talk or pretend themselves, and you, to death.
Sure, a kid can make up a neverending story, but let’s be real here. It’s not like it’s Harry Potter or Hemingway. But apparently it really is to THEM. We’ve got duller imaginations and more sophisticated tastes as adults, so after 15 or 20 minutes the made-up characters can seem a bit shallow and inconsistent, the timeline of events utterly confusing, and the plot, well… kinda nonexistent. They’re just telling a story to story tell, and playing for the sake of play.
It’s a wonderful, and sometimes awful, challenge for a parent. We’ve let our imagination muscles atrophy and wither, while we’ve been strength training our responsible adult muscles and our cardio stress-ular systems.
So, kids are almost like personal imagination trainers, testing us and pushing us to get our imagination’s lazy asses up and moving and breaking a sweat.
I’m not saying this in jest, really. Aside from connecting with your child at their level, it is really important to have a healthy imagination.
Life’s always better when, in a way, it can be whatever you want it to be.
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