Did your parents encourage your imagination, or discourage it?
My mother did a lot to encourage my imagination, though I didn’t appreciate it when I was a child. Barbie dolls were all the rage when I was in elementary school. I didn’t care much for dolls, but I liked all the accessories in the stores. I had a “fashion” doll, but not a Barbie. When I wanted to buy new clothes for it, Mom handed me leftover scraps of cloth. I’m sure she hoped I’d decide to try my hand at sewing, but I made do with string for belts and safety pins.
I really wanted one of the fancy Barbie convertible cars. I got a shoe box and was told to use my imagination.
Admittedly, we probably couldn’t afford the store-bought car, but I doubt I would have gotten it anyway. I have to admit, a shoe box can be a car, a stage coach, or a spaceship.
My imagination allowed me to use a lawn swing tied to a tree as a stagecoach, and a swing on the swing set as a spaceship. I remember one summer afternoon when my cousin and I spent the afternoon exploring other planets. I also remember the sense of shock when my mother called us in to lunch and I realized I was “back” in my own yard. I hadn’t been there for hours, you see.
Looking back, I missed the importance of those lessons when raising my kids. I could afford to buy lots of “stuff,” and I am mortified at the boxes and boxes of toys I now have stored in the basement and barn. Fortunately, they seem to have survived my poor parenting. The older one complains I yelled too much (I did lecture A LOT), but he enjoys reading and is eager to try new things, go new places, and eat foods he hasn’t tried before. The younger one is an exceptional author and game designer.
At least I can say with confidence I never tried to discourage their imagination. What’s your story?
