Imagination

There’s something about a little boy’s mind that allows him to be anything in the world that he could ever want to be. My 3 year old was one of the most imaginative little people I have ever met. He would be “Cody” so infrequently that he had to announce when he was being himself. His favorite thing to be was a tiger. He would walk around on all fours roaring every few seconds. He also enjoyed being a cougar, lion, wolf, or dragon. The problem with this variety of animal is that they all made similar sounds, (at least in Cody’s mind,) and he would expect me to know at any given second which animal he was. If I didn’t guess right he would get very frustrated and “attack” me with his razor sharp claws and fierce growls. In the morning, I always knew Cody was awake because I would hear howling at the top of the stairs.  

Every once in a while, Cody would be a kitty or a dog, Kung Fu Panda, or a knight in shining armor. I preferred those species because they were easier to distinguish and much less ferocious. Most of the time he pretended to be a “mean animal” but sometimes he would let me know that, “he was a nice tiger now.” And instead of roaring, he would growl quietly and snuggle in between my legs while I was trying to walk.

Isabella loved Cody so much that she always wanted to do exactly what he was doing. So more often than not, I had two tigers, two lions, or two wolfs. After a few months of this, though, she got tired of being fierce so she would often be the baby animal and would want loves and snuggles, while Cody only wanted me to “run for my life” screaming every second of every day.

Many times in his battles with dragons as a brave knight Cody would suddenly fall over and die. It seemed like Cody always chose the most inopportune times to die. It always happened when we were trying to get ready to go somewhere, or when dinner was getting cold on the table. Nothing we did could ever convince Cody that he wasn’t dead anymore. We would try tickling him, pinching him, picking him up to make him stand on his own, etc. etc. A magic kiss woke him up on occasion, but most of the time we just had to wait 10 or 20 minutes until he was sick of being dead. He would then groggily stand up and grab his sword and shield to resume the fight. Isabella got so used to him dying that she would notice him on the floor, and calmly shout, “Mom! Cody’s dead.” Most of the time she would try to kiss him a few times to see if that would wake him, but after a few unsuccessful attempts, she would keep right on walking or resume playing with her dollies.

I loved everything about Cody’s imagination, but there were times that I got sick of talking to a tiger and we made a rule that he at least had to come give me a hug and kiss in the morning before he started growling at me, even if it was a “tiger kiss” or a “cougar hug”.