On the wings of fantasy

On the wings of fantasy

“If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer
If you’re a pretender come sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin
Come in! 
Come in!” 

― Shel Silverstein

Gy is an only child. For a long time, after she turned 3 or so, we really wondered how she would cope by herself. Planning for another child began , but that is a whole new story. Fate has apparently decreed that she is likely to remain an only child.

 Growing up with a sibling is a wonderful, joyous thing. Both V and I had siblings and we are ever grateful for that. But, surprisingly, Gy has always been a content child. As far back as my memory goes, she has delighted in imaginary play and solo play.

She would take out her lego pieces, line them up and talk to them as if they were individuals.

She would gently admonish all the animals in her circus troupe for misbehaving and then invite them all to a tea-party! The setup for the party was quick, simple and efficient, as you can see below:

Two days ago, I overheard her talking to herself in her room. I stealthily opened the door a crack and eavesdropped on the ‘conversation’. She was addressing another person, explaining the relationship between ‘Dhritarashtra’ and ‘Gandhari’ (Indian mythology characters). Suddenly, she paused, raised her voice a notch and said curtly, ‘If you don’t want to listen, then I won’t tell you the story!’

Yes, you heard it right. She was arguing with herself! 🙂

Back in 2010, on our visit to the United States, we had the opportunity to visit the Strong National Museum of Play in Rochester, New York. It is an incredibly designed museum and I must admit, V and I had as much fun as did Gy! One day was hardly sufficient to do justice to the number of things a child( or the child in me!) could do.

What is it about the world of fantasy and make-believe that is so captivating?
Why do children and adults alike love to escape into that world, leaving this one behind?

Perhaps it’s because we can be truly ourselves, without the curious eyes of society judging us and having a say in what we do.
Maybe that’s the way we choose to look at the freedom that childhood offers.

Or it could just be that we are having way too much fun to worry about the real world and everything in it.

Linking this post to the ABC Wednesday Challenge
F is for Fantasy, Fun and Freedom symbolised by play
Click on the link above to read more related posts on ‘F’

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0 thoughts on “On the wings of fantasy

  1. What a wonderful post! I remember when my daughters were little, they would play together with their “My Little Ponies” on the patio. They built cities out of their imagination and stories to reenact for her father and me. One particularly fun evening I recall is when they put on a paper bag puppet show by crouching behind the sofa and popping their characters up – and making up different voices! What FUN!

  2. Lovely post Shailaja. What could be better than a world crafted by your own fantasy. However, only kids have the courage to stay there. The rest of su just get too self conscious as we grow up.

  3. I agree, Tulika. There should be a museum of make-believe for us too! That is one thing I really loved about the US. The number of places we could take kids to, was simply overwhelming and fascinating.

  4. Your daughter reminds me of my now 3-year old great-granddaughter. She has such an active imagination, pretty rare in American children nowadays. My daughter (her nanna), granddaughter, ggd then 2 years old, and I went to the local children's museum; we all had fun! Its layout looks very similar to the one pictured here.
    By the way, I cam via ABC Wednesday. glad I did!

  5. Loved every word of it. We adults are so scared of “what will people say” that we forget how to be ourselves. Instead of looking for happiness and fun within ourselves, we look for it in external means and in the approving eyes of people around us, whether or not they matter. Grown-ups can learn so much from children.

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