I love the magic of a childish imagination. I think it's something that runs in my family.
Tonight my mom hosted dinner for my whole famly: my aunts & uncles, my cousins and their kids because my grandmother was going back to her home in Puerto Rico. My dad is really a big kid trapped in a grown man's body. He loves playing with my cousins' kids. I know my parents are just waiting for them to become grandparents, but first things first.
This afternoon, dad came home with a big moving box.
As soon as he brought it in the house, I got to work preparing it for a cool playhouse. I cut out the front door and window. Above the door, I added a cute little lookout window with shutters. I even put in a flashlight in the roof so there would be light inside. I had so much fun putting it together that I was upset that I wasn't able to play in it.
When the kids came over I could barely wait for them to take off their coats. "Hurry up. Uncle Nelson brought a surprise for you!"
I brought them over into the spare room where I had the playhouse set up and when they saw it their eyes light up. "Wow!" Right away, they crawled inside, peeked out the windows and got to work decorating the inside with the crayons that I left for them.
For hours they played in their imaginary world, and I remembered when I used to build forts out of the couch cushions, when the backyard became another world, when a cardboard box was the biggest treasure you could hope for. I missed those days. Now my 'box' comes with drafty windows, maintenance fees and a mortgage.