Imaginary Play

Imaginary play.

To most parents, this is an ordinary and expected part of childhood.  But, as a parent of a child with special needs, I am very aware that this is not something to be taken for granted. When a child sits down and naturally plays with toys, imagining and creating pretend worlds, this is a miracle.  It may be a commonly occurring miracle, but yet, it is still amazing.  That God creates young children with minds and imaginations which allow them to create and pretend without being taught how to do so is truly spectacular.

This summer, my home has again become alive with the sounds of imaginary play.  I regularly hear the sound of tractors driving along, horns honking, chickens and roosters being placed into wagons and pulled along behind tractors driven by doggies, horses and cows drinking water from the trough because they are thirsty, sheep "baaing", roosters crowing, girls driving cars, elevators rising and falling, bells dinging, fire trucks coming to the rescue, cars crashing, and ladders being raised for fire men and their doggies to climb up tall buildings.

Puzzle pieces are set upright to become animals.  Dishwasher boxes have become caves. Laundry baskets are toy collectors, push toys, and even cozy spots to climb into and play for a while.  School buses travel around, carrying people (and bottles) to undisclosed locations. Dump trucks with heavy loads are pushed everywhere.  A path is being worn as the door to the play house outside is often opened and closed for little boys to enter and play inside. Shutters pop open for impromptu games of peek-a-boo.

Toys are being carried from room to room for play to continue with different surroundings, making it difficult for me to keep sets together for the first time in years.

And Wesley is watching.  Very carefully.  Sometimes, he even comes over to join in the play. He drives his cars down the ramp of the parking garage too.  He runs in and out of the play house outside and takes his turn at pushing around the dump truck.  His play is more repetitive and more a copy of what he has observed and has been taught.  But he is learning.  He is trying.  And his imitation of the little brother he loves so much is beautiful to see.