Bananas and Boneheads

A few weeks ago I made the hour drive to Provo with my three little kiddies in tow. I handed each of them a banana and in my small-minded way I thought I was just giving them a snack. As it turned out, those bananas became everything from a princess to a really bad guy in the 45 minutes that followed. It made me happy that in this modern, fast-paced, artificial world we live in my kids still had some good old-fashioned imagination.

Imagination is a good thing, right? Well, fast forward a few days. My girls and a neighbor girl are sitting at the table working their artistic charms on everything they can get their hands on. They hear a noise, specifically a footstep, neighbor girl investigates and reports that she saw a bone-headed creature in the bathroom mirror. All three girls run to me and explain their indisputable evidence. I smiled and told them I was sure there was a reasonable and harmless explanation for everything they heard and saw and suggested they go outside and play. Outside they are joined by neighbor girl's brothers and are all too eager to tell their story to them. The brothers are determined to utilize their manly protective genes and tell the three damsels they will check it out. Upon their return they told of the bonehead's bony arm grabbing one of their arms and how they fled for their lives. I overheard that last of the report and quickly went out to attempt damage control. The minute I walked out, I knew I was doomed. My two girls looked at me with eyes as big as quarters and so full of fear I admired their fortitude at not bursting into tears on the spot.

I started telling them all about how it was fun to pretend sometimes, but scaring each other wasn't nice and could have some lasting effects. Neighbor kids were deeply offended and swore up and down they were NOT lying. I assured them I wasn't accusing them of lies, but that perhaps imaginations had run a little wild and played some mischief on their minds. They reaffirmed the accuracy of what they heard and saw and happily went home to their boneheadless house.

I worked all night talking my girls out of their terror and when they went to sleep with very little drama, I thought perhaps we had managed to side-step the trauma. At three o'clock that morning my naive optimism was checked by the reality of two terrified children. After working with them for an hour -- singing songs, explaining every noise and silently cursing three otherwise very cute little neighbor children -- the poor princesses finally went back to sleep.

It has been about two weeks since the sighting of bonehead. My youngest girl still won't venture into another room of our house unaccompanied (fortunately, her 2 year old brother is more than willing to follow her -- happily oblivious to what may be lurking around the corner or under the bed or in the bathroom mirror). Rationally everyone accepts that he does not exist, but imaginations are powerful and what did they hear and see that day?