Imagination Station

Addy is deep into her imagination these days.  That’s the nice way to say it.  Another way is that she just likes to make shit up.

Recent conversation:

Addy: Mommy, did you tear my towel?
Me: No. You tore the hood cause you pull it down over your hair.
Addy: No.

Cut to a week later.

Addy: Mommy.  Someone tore the [screen in front of the] window.  It wasn’t me.
Me:  I know it wasn’t you.  We are upstairs, so maybe a bird flew into it and the screen tore.
Addy: Yeah a bird tore it.  A bird tore my towel too.

{scene}

And as a person who has made up and written down stories and has a tendency to let tangents run off into the wild, I get it.  Like I’m not the type to stifle ridiculousness.  So sometimes I’m just like “oh yeah? Tell me more about your Ninja Turtle car you drive.” but I’m also like “really? A rouge pigeon came in here and tore up your Little Mermaid towel Addison?”

But mostly I just roll with it.  Cause it’s funny.  And I guess I get it?  I assume it’s just some developmental thing that she’ll grow out of or at least cultivate into more blog fodder.  One of the baby emails that just came through my inbox (remember when they would compare the fetus size to some obscure fruit) has a mom quoted :

When my daughter runs to me yelling, “A mean, scary monster is coming!” I calmly tell her we don’t allow mean monsters in our house. She’ll turn to the monster and say, “If you’re nice you can eat with me.” We set an extra plate on the table, and the problem is solved.
— Bekka

Come on Bekka, you’re being a bit extra.  I think Bekka has a case of the makeshitups too. Or maybe it’s just me and Addy that run up the stairs as we quickly unlock the door and throw our stuff down and yell “whew that was a close one,” when we have our monster encounters.

Also who even really sets a table?!