Imagination Station

“George, what’s that on your back?”

Of course I can see what is on George’s back. George has a pink plastic octopus on his back, long, limp pink legs dangling around his neck and bouncing off his bottom. Rather to my surprise, George, Mr. Prosaic, does not answer “An octopus”. No, indeed. “It’s my backpack for school.”

“You’re going to school?” He nods.

“And Darcy, I see you have your sleeping bag for space.” For Darcy is in a familiar pose: shuffling along in a large canvas bag, held in place by its long red handles which are looped over his shoulders.

“Yes, but George wants to play school.”

Mary to the rescue. This one’s easy enough. “How about you play Space School? You’d need your backpack there, George, so it could be filled with air for you to breathe.”

Darcy and Arthur are enthusiastic. “Hey! You have a space sleeping bag, Darcy, and I have my space hat!” Arthur declares. Arthur, who is wearing a bright red basket on his head now has an actual reason for his millinery. How thrilling! Everyone’s props fit the game!

Prosaic George is dubious. “There’s no school in space.”

Mary is determined that little imaginations shall take flight, however, and will not be deterred so readily. “How do you know? And even if there aren’t, you could always Pretend.” His face still registers doubt, so I increase the appeal.

“In Space School, you could learn how to drive a spaceship!”

Darcy is completely wowed by this possibility, but George remains staunchly untwined by the tendrils of imagination.

“My legs are too short. They can’t reach the pedals.”

“In Space School, they have special ships for kids, just so they can learn.”

Arthur, Mr. Construction guy, likes this. A kid-sized space ship. Now that’s something a guy can wrap his head around! “Hey , guys, let’s go build one!!”

He leads the way purposefully to the kitchen, sweeping George up in his passage. Building a spaceship is tangible enough even for Reality Boy, and there follows great crashing and bashing of blocks, and much excited chatter. When they leave a half hour later, it certainly looks like a comet went through.

Space, the final frontier – right here in my kitchen!