I got to babysit again today. It’s nice to be called by someone you don’t know to take care of the children, but it’s even greater when they call you back. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a woman, Robin, and today I was able to go back and take care of her two little ones again. Charlotte, her older child, just had her third birthday this weekend, so it was a lot of fun to hear about her Fancy Nancy tea party. She’s getting up to big girl age now and I getting back into my younger years.
My favorite thing about my conversations with Charlotte is her creativity and how nothing seems to hinder it. There are times when I just follow along as she creates this entire elaborate story as we walk through the back yard. I consider myself a rather creative guy as well, but I’m just blown away at some of the things that come out of her mouth. I caught myself laughing out loud a few times, but was quickly scolded for laughing during serious matters. I snapped back to “reality” and continued our journey.
Charlotte is at the age now where nap time isn’t always a must for her. So instead of that, her mother has just created a quiet playtime for her that could be a nap, or just alone time. I think this has really inspired her creativity because I’ve just loved walking upstairs to find out what all happened during quiet time. When I walked into the room, my heart sank when I realized the room was empty. I just thought to myself, she’s been up here for about 45 minutes and she’s escaped. Am I that bad of a babysitter? After the initial shock was over, I walked over to the closet door and heard a conversation. Charlotte was just spending time with her “friend” Rachel who happens to be four stories tall and having a private conversation.
I sat down on the floor next to her and asked her how her time was. She told me how great it was and started telling me a whole slew of stories that had kept her busy. I haven’t seen many kids that could play by themselves for that long, but even above that, enjoy it so much. I told her she had a lot to catch me up on and it might need to take place over apple juice and princess snacks. You would’ve thought I said we were going to Disney World as she jumped up and said, “That’s a great idea.”
Her little brother was still napping, so Charlotte and I were able to catch up on all that had happened in the last hour. She told me all about her dreams and her stories and nothing in the world seemed to hinder her. I remembered some of the stories I would play out when I was a little kid and all I could do was smile. Finally I asked Charlotte, “Do you really believe all this could happen.” Her response, “Of course. Some of it is imaginary, but not all of it.”
This comment stuck with me for a while. Who tells us what’s imaginary and what isn’t? And at what age do we have to start following by those guidelines? I feel like the more I dream, the more reality gets thrown in my face both internally and externally. I would never interrupt Charlotte from telling me all about her quiet time, but the second I or someone “of age” starts dreaming like that, it gets shut down. Some of the times I do it myself because I believe that no one would take that dream seriously. Maybe there is a little truth to that thought, but not always. How many dreams get shot down before they’re even verbalized?
If a full grown woman came and told me about her dream that involved her four story tall friend and their journeys through America, I might be a little hesitant. But sometimes people just need us to listen so the dream can become verbalized and who knows what could happen after that? We’re so slow to listen and so quick to critique that even our creativity has become structured. We even have plans on how to brainstorm or think out of the box effectively. I just don’t understand how we can even call ourselves dreamers sometimes.
I want to open a door for you.
What is your dream? Not life dream necessarily, just anything.
Really take the time to close your eyes and visualize it.
Don’t shoot anything down and just allow yourself to go to some ideal place that only exists in your dreams.
Now write it down.
Don’t think practically. Just let your pencil go as fast as your brain does. Tear the eraser off and just go.
I’d love to read it. I’d at least love for you to share it with someone. I spend my day with 2 and 3 year olds, nothing is outrageous anymore. In the midst of such a structured environment, our dreams are that place that doesn’t have to be hindered by logistics or “real life”. Honestly, most of me isn’t as passionate about getting people to realize their dreams as much as I just want them to dream. Unhindered. Unfettered. Unshackled.
It’s an art we take for granted and abuse. It’s only for the creative type, or the innovators, or the unemployed… Getting over those lies could be a start…
