Play is our Work!

I love it when I see little children acting out "grown-up" things. Practicing for when they are us, copying what they see. I especially love the imaginative and innocent twists they put on every day things, which give us little glimpses into that magic of childhood. I love how exciting they find things like washing the dishes, hanging laundry, standing in line at the airport. (Really? You want to play airport lines? Not airplanes, not travel, but airport lines???Because I think that actually makes my top ten list of worst things ever. Yup, it's right in there under Having One of My Limbs Devoured by a Shark.*) Huh, maybe we could stand to learn from their attitudes... as they are undoubtedly learning from ours...

I will get more into that aspect of it in my next post~ "Work is our Play" A Post on Attitude and Calling~ but for now, I'll just share this sweet story.

This past week we applied for our baby daughter's U.S. passport and documents (which were approved, yay!) Paperwork, for me, is a nightmare. I hate it. It brings me into perilously close contact with the left side of my brain, that hemisphere I usually try to keep in hiding, pretending it doesn't exist because, frankly, it hates me and its extended use is always painful and frequently embarrassing.
But I did that paperwork. And then I did it all over again when we found out we had the outdated forms. And I ran back and forth making sure we had every document and copies of every document, all placed in perfect order in a neat and shiny blue folder. And it paid off, because we'll be getting our baby's passport in the mail very soon. Thank you Lord.

So yesterday I found our oldest daughter engrossed in cutting out and coloring a stack of pretty papers. They looked like rainbow snowflakes. I asked her what she was doing.
"Oh, just getting all my documents ready to get my passport for Adelina Land."
"Ah, Adelina Land."

Some kids have imaginary friends, mine have imaginary lands, complete with their own unique flora, fauna, dress, culture, and apparently, passport application processes.

"Yeah," She went on, "Then I have to take these documents over there to get that other document that I need to take to the Embassy."
She completes this task and shows me the paper filled with blue swirls she has colored, which she 'receives' in exchange for the rainbow ones she has just finished at the imaginary office, which is the living room couch.

I go away to stand at the sink and daydream as I inconspicuously nibble on a cookie, hoping not to get caught wash dishes.

A little while later she bounces into the room, "Mommy, take a picture of me for my trip! I got my passport, I'm ready to go!" She has donned her fanciest shirt, a bandanna, a purse, and has made herself a passport complete with self-portrait which she has hooked onto her shirt with a pipe cleaner."

"Oh my, you sure are!" I snap her picture and she flounces up the stairs. Later I head up to my bedroom for something and find her reclined on my bed, reading a book. Next to her is her purse and a bag full of books, as well as a stuffed rabbit nestled against the pillow beside her. "Oh hey, are you having some alone time? I can come back later." I ask. Her alone time is very important to her. "Nah, this is my hotel room in the country I'm staying in. Tomorrow I fly back to Adelina Land. See? I brought some books to read so I won't be bored and my bunny to sleep with."
"Wow, you thought everything through didn't you? Good planning."
"Yeah." She goes back to reading and I get what I need and go back downstairs. She played this game for a good two hours straight.

And I continued to be amazed by the way she played out her perception of things, there was so much learning and processing that went into this little play session. It reminded me of something she said (*caughyelledcough*) at her very practical younger sister the other day when said sibling confronted her with the (horrendous) idea that they didn't need anymore toys because they have a lot: "Teuta! Play is our work!"

And that right there is a great truth of childhood.

*For all the litteralists out there, I fully realize that having one's limbs torn off by a shark would be way worse than standing in line at the airport. Like, two or even three spots above it.