Sometimes I am the worst mother. I try, but I just don’t get why certain things are fun for the kids. I think I am in tune with what they like and I try to make up games for us. We play with their toys together. I do have an imagination. But sometimes, I look at a toy and think “what fun is this? You can’t do anything with this.” When I was Christmas shopping I had to really stop myself from over-analyzing the toys I was buying. I would look at a toy and think “this is boring, the kids won’t like this.” But they always prove me wrong. They will play for hours with a tin pail. First its a pail. Then its a helmet for space travel. Then its a drum. Then its a place to collect tickets from everyone who walks through the hallway. Finally, its a place to stuff other toys, seeing just how many will fit. God forbid I try to throw away an empty paper towel roll. Its a telescope, its a horn, its attached to an imaginary rope which is pulling them across the room.

Even when I think I get it, sometimes I don’t. Stuffed Animals, for example. I know what they are good for. You can put them in your bed. You can pretend they are real animals or pets. You can even put doll clothes on them. That’s it.

Or apparently, you can bury yourself in them and play “hibernation” just like Vincent in “Over the Hedge”.

I did not see that one coming. I am glad my kids have such good imaginations, since I don’t. If I hang around them long enough, maybe I will learn a few things.