The sound of my children playing....that is joy to me. I was actually worried about how number three would enter into the mix. My older two play so well. The older they get, the better they play. Lately they've been into to playing camp/camping.
Last week my oldest announced that he wanted to buy something. I asked him what he had in mind. His response, "Mom, I will just know when I see it. You take me there, to the Pharmacy."
We live next to a small, rural town that has a stellar Pharmacy, notice I choose to capitalize the word Pharmacy. It is just that good.
We went to the one row of toys. He saw it, not right away, but eventually his heart connected with what he always knew he wanted...toy guns. His younger brother followed, as always. The little pacifist in me started to freak out, but then I realized this had nothing to do with future beliefs, but rather an immediate need for a little boy to buy something splendid with his piggy bank cash. Plus, three "weapons" cost a mere 99 cents. The thrifty in me won out. Each boy walked their purchase to the counter and handed the clerk their coins. They felt so grown-up. I was beaming. They were so cute. I wanted everyone in the store that day to agree with my pride.
As soon as we got home the plot of play thickened. I could hear the interactions. There were roles, conflicts, rising action, a climax, and even a satisfying resolution. On the floor of the living room were two couch cushions for sleeping mats, a plastic dog tied to a chair leg, two red pillows propped up burning their tarantula puppet, and their trusty sidearms laying next to it all.
"We shot those wild animals, and now we are going to eat them!"
I was pleased. Their great grandfather would be too. (He is lovingly known as the Great White Hunter.)
I love this new phase of imaginative play.
I'm seeing good signs of our third and final installment being included into the fun.
He really is a toddler stuck in a baby's body.
And here is the proof...The Wild Rumpus: