No pictures with this post; it’s hard to get a picture of something invisible.
Mr. Imagination came in the house while I was cooking supper, cuddling something in his hand. He told me he had a baby kitten. I asked him where he found it. “Out in the paddock.”
“Did the mommy cat leave it?”
“It was in another cave.”
I asked what color it was. “Blue.”
I asked if it had to have a bottle or if it could drink out of a dish. “It still needs a bottle.” I pretended to give him a bottle, and he pretended to feed it to the kitten, making sucking noises with his mouth. Then, after he told me there were actually three kittens, I told him that after you feed a tiny kitten you have to wash its bottom with a warm wet cloth to help it poo. I thought that might faze him, but obviously it’s no problem with an invisible kitten!
The next problem was where to put the kittens to sleep. He wanted to put them under a light to keep them warm, like we do with chicks, turkeys and ducklings. I told him that kittens just need a hot water bottle with a clean dry cloth over it in a box. “Where is the clean cloth?” I told him to see if there was a pretend one on the coal range—sure enough, there was! “Where is the hot water bottle?” I pretended to give him one, and help him fill it, and then he found a pretend box.
Now he had the problem of where to put his kittens. I suggested in a quiet corner of his bedroom, so he trotted off—but was soon back. The kittens had woke up! I told him to take them back, but “Mew! Mew! They will wait for me!” I suggested putting them on my rocking chair in the kitchen. “Oh, yes. They will not wait for me there!”
Then, when I called everyone to the table for supper, he brought his kittens along and started “feeding” them. A shred of meat went to the kittens…and into his mouth. A bit of bread—“They like the inside bread”—went to the kittens…and into his mouth.
I think he’s forgotten them now, an hour later, but it was awfully cute while it went on. I love being able to play along with him like that. It’s an easy way to connect with a three-year-old, and I don’t even have to stop what I’m doing to play with him. He is so much fun!
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