In the last month or so, Owen's imagination has completely exploded. A good portion of our lives are now spent in his imaginary world.
I grew up with a brother whose imagination was much like my Owen's. And I spent much of my time making sure he knew that his fantasies were not realistic, and his incessant sound effects that he made during his imaginary play were annoying. Older sisters have that responsibility, you know - to keep little brothers in line.
Fast forward 20 years, and here I am feeling completely guilty for being such a monster to my sweet and imaginative little brother. Because as Owen's momma, I am completely overwhelmed by the capacity his brain has to imagine up such creative scenarios and to be completely entertained by playing them out. I not only marvel at this little boy's imaginative spirit, but I actually play along. And enjoy it.
Owen morphs from Buzz Lightyear to Santa Claus to a puppy in the matter of minutes. He acts as Dr. Martin (his pediatrician), a dog groomer, and a music teacher. He drives me in his race cars, on his choo choo trains, and in his bumpy tractors at the pumpkin patch. At any given moment I may be under attack by a monster, a snowball, a shark, or a laser. I pull the string from his back, and he says "There's a snake in my boot." or push the button on his chest to make his wings pop out. Sometimes his red nose squeaks, but it's a good sign that he'll be guiding my sleigh through the foggy skies that night.
I love this little boy to no end.