Stepping back into a world of make-believe

My daughter and I were deep into a game of spies last week when suddenly she stopped, looked at me exasperated and said, “Mom, I just don’t think you’re good at this game.”

This was a major blow to my ego. I had really been giving this spy thing my all. I had been running around the house, ducking for cover and really laying it on thick that I believed there were “bad guys” on our tail.

Apparently, my efforts were sub-par.

Maybe my daughter was right. I have to admit that my imaginative skills are nothing to rave about. When my 4-year-old daughter announces it’s time to have a tea party, play spies or go “camping” in the living room, I find myself having to dig deep to enter her world of imagination.

It used to come so easy for me as a child. I could spend hours outside as the trees turned into ferocious beasts and I darted for cover. I would twirl my umbrella on the backyard patio, dancing and singing to an imaginary audience that was nothing short of real in my mind. There was even a space in the backyard between two trees that I had deemed a portal into my magic, imaginary world.

The world — and the backyard — was whatever I wanted it to be. And I was whomever I chose to be. Now, I can’t seem to muster up those fantastic worlds for anything.

Sure I can run around and scream “Oh no, the bad guys,” but I just can’t see them anymore. And my daughter can tell I’m not really there with her, seeing and experiencing the same imaginary world she is.

It’s sad. When do we lose the ability to truly imagine like children do? I wonder why our brains at some point stop transporting us to make-believe places.

Perhaps the problem is life becomes too real at some point. The realities of money, work, health, children and everything else we deal with in a day crowds out the whimsy of imagination.

Life is too real. I need more make-believe.

So although I’ve been demoted from spies for the time being, I’m determined to win my way back into my daughter’s imaginary world. I want to share it with her and show her that her mom isn’t too old to make believe.

Her world will be all too real soon enough and her window of imagination will shrink as mind did. So for now, I’m happy to be toasting at a tea party and doing my best to run from the bad guys. And maybe if I’m lucky enough I’ll shake some of this reality and my daughter can help me once again find that magical backyard portal.

Erin Stewart is a regular blogger for Deseret News. From stretch marks to the latest news for moms, Stewart discusses it all while her 4-year-old daughter crams Mr. Potato Head pieces in her little sister's nose.