More rain calls for wild imagination and a little exploration of new spaces. In one moment, I am told I am a tree by my daughter who is now a monkey swinging on said tree. The next moment, my leg is being propped up under a blanket to be a mountain for a baby frog to rest upon as imaginary snow comes down. I am a mommy, and she is a baby crawling about going “wah, wah, wah.” Then I am Charlotte, and she is the mommy. Play as research. Trying to figure out and find solid the familial relationships that she senses are bound to change soon. Change and stay the same in ways neither of us can hope to understand yet. She has had a bedroom to call her own now for a week. She has been sleeping in there and just got cabinet doors and drawers that she “helped” install. She finds random objects to place in her drawers and opens and shuts her cabinets just cause. She is becoming less afraid of the lights that shine through her windows at night as she spends more time investigating the view in the daytime. She is spreading out her stuff and claiming her space. This space will continue to unfold for a long time as eventually she gets shelves, a closet, and a bed that is not inflatable. It’s a process. Independence is a process. Charlotte is the baby begging to be spoonfed and given a bottle and the almost threenager arguing with me about whether or not she is cleaning up her toys with an emotive, “I AM.” She darts from me, yet she still wants me to lay down with her “for just a little bit” when I put her to bed. Welcome to your big girl room, baby. You know where I sleep.
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All Mountains and Molehills 