Child's Play

Tonight the girls were playing with their My Little Pony's. Elizabeth's was a unicorn. Savannah wanted hers to be a unicorn. Not a problem. She had an invisible horn. Whew. So they were playing with two unicorns. The only problem was that Starscream (Mark's toy of choice) could not see the invisible horn, it being invisible and all. Consequently there was an altercation among the toys that eventually transferred to the actual children. And then some weeping with Savannah lying on her back, kicking her feet in the air--oh, the distress of the horn not being seen. "Don't worry," Elizabeth said, "Starscream can't see it because it's invisible." And then Savannah was okay and they went back to playing.

Speaking of play, I love it. It reminds me so much of my play at that age. They invent the games line by line, play by play. They use it to work things out. This is not a real conversation, only the idea of how they often go:
"Okay, and I'm your sister cat."
"But you can't fly like I can. Because I'm a flying cat."
"But I want to fly because I'm your sister cat."
"Well, you can get on my back and fly."
And then sometimes Mark will jump in with his own toy or his own invention of the game--usually a rather boyish one, like, "And then you get your legs cut off because you fly over the tree."
But don't worry because someone can inevitably heal animals or a doctor shows up or a magician. Which is what's so fascinating about it; the game is always evolving; and it's always being negotiated (though not quite always peacefully).

There's also enough switching from the bad to good side to make Anakin Skywalker a little dizzy. Tonight Savannah's invisible-horned unicorn kept going to be on Starscream's side because of various reasons like that she liked how he looked (my girls often do things because they do or do not like how something looks) and then switching back. And I do love how the boy keeps the girls from being too frufru, and the girls keep the boy from being too self-involved.

I love the games, the imagination, and the memories of the times I did just the same things with my siblings and friends.