“Logic will get you from A to Z; imagination will get you everywhere.” ― Albert Einstein
Maeve's imagination is really taking off, lately. I can tell this is the age when thoughts begin to become reality for her. She likes to pretend we are each other, that she is Mommy and I am Maevie. At least, she wants to play that for about a minute until I start making requests, then she wants to be Maevie again.
She imagines the dust she sprinkles out of an old pen cap lid will fill the street with mummies, or that wrapping me in a napkin will have the same effect on me. She imagines that she is a baby, or that her stuffed koala is a baby, or that any object that comes to hand is some form of infant.
In her imagination, I am a child like herself, or for a few fleeting seconds I am a scary monster, but very quickly I become comforter and procurer of food again. But she believes staunchly that I could ride her tricycle, wear her helmet and clothes, and run as fast as she does if I really tried.
And, through gritted teeth, I admit that even though it may be her imagination waking her up before 5am every day and that makes me ten kinds of crazy, I really still want her to enjoy and explore with her imagination every day, for as many years as she may.