The Business of Make-Believe

THE BUSINESS OF MAKE-BELIEVE
"Hey mom! Did you know I'm a lizard? I'm a lizard! Watch. Lizards slither mom. Watch. I'm hungry. Do lizards like bananas? Pretend I'm a monkey. I'm gonna jump over to eat my banana. I'm a monkey, mama. Did you know that I'm a monkey? Pretend I'm a baby monkey and you scratch my back."
As five year old Sam curls up on my lap to eat his banana, he continues on. "I'm gonna be a dog instead. I'm a dog, O.K.? Dogs don't kiss, they lick." He licks my hand and cheek, jumps off my lap, and contemplates his banana peel. "Did you know that this looks just like a prince's shoes? I'm gonna go play prince Phillip now. You wanna be the princess?"
This excerpt from my son's life has no ending right now. Every day he weaves his themes of animals, princes, dragons, and various characters into his life. As I prepared to do some errands, he was involved in learning about another of his passions of the moment...wolves. He asked for some yarn to be tied around his waist as we headed out the door to the grocery store.
"Pretend you own me, and I protect you. You can lead me around the store if you want, or maybe tie me to the grocery cart!"
As I obliged him, I thought about how it is easier and more exciting for Sam to be an animal, or some type of magical character, as we go about the adult tasks of the day. When I enter into his magical landscape, he seems to better accept the limits I need to enforce for a successful shopping trip. If I can integrate my needs to get my grocery shopping done without Sam racing wildly throughout the store, with Sam's need to be active, curious, and full of energy, I will gladly partake in his wolf fantasy. As I "led" him out to the car, he howled in earnest. I reminded him that wolves were usually pretty quiet around humans, and that when we got to our destination he would need to stay by me and keep a low profile.
Meanwhile, my eleven year old daughter, Sarah, and her nine year old friend had been quietly playing with my husband’s business supplies. From amongst the calculators, old billing forms, stamps, envelopes and computer, they emerged. As we all piled into the car, she informed me that I was their taxi driver. From what I gathered, she and her friend were two rich working mothers on their way to a business meeting. But the business of make-believe is much more subtle at her age. I understand that when I am told I am the taxi driver, I am not expected to overtly partake in their game. I'm just a handy prop.
We embarked on our journey to the grocery store in this fashion; Sam as the wolf, me as his beloved companion; Sarah and friend as the wealthy working mothers, me as their taxi driver.
When we filed into the grocery store, I watched as Sarah and her friend slipped out of their roles and into the task at present, using their own carts to collect items from a separate list I had made for her. What an interesting age, I thought. One foot is still in the room of make-believe, and the other is on the threshold of adolescence. As Sarah and her friend shopped I wondered if each was privately still pretending, or if they were just doing "straight" grocery shopping.
As Sam prowled about the produce isle, he began to relish his role of the wolf. I soon found him on his hands and knees gleefully peeking around corners. That glint I detected in his eyes keyed me in to the fact that he was now aware that he was taking his make-believe to a point that could go too far in within the social parameters of a grocery store. Now, he already knows it would not be socially acceptable to go crawling, thrashing, and howling through the store (although it would be fine at home). He seems to have developed some type of "public pretend boundary" which he doesn't often cross when he goes out in the world. At age five, he has come to distinguish between what is comfortable for him outside of our home as opposed to what is comfortable for him at home. Or, perhaps it’s just that he has distinguished what is comfortable for me outside of our home.
As I watched this little wolf becoming more restless and excited, I knew there was a potential for him to reach that point of no return...that point that we have all seen at one time or another.... the irate, red-faced parent carrying a screaming, perhaps flailing, child out of the grocery store. I reminded him that wolves were not allowed to freely roam around the store, and perhaps my shopping cart could be his secret cave. The idea of a cave excited him and for the remainder of the trip he sat amongst the growing pile of food in my shopping cart, quietly growling from time to time. He moved in and out of this make-believe world with finesse and ease. He would go from commenting on the various food items I threw into the cart, back to a growl here and there. He had quite an exciting time in his "rolling cave."
I noticed other little boys in the grocery store who seemed to walk along quietly with their mothers, gazing at food and people with what looked like quiet, cooperative compliance. But who am I to say? Perhaps they are kings, princes, or wolves too, as they walk along.
When we were done shopping and back in the car, I was once again the taxi driver for Sarah and her friend. I made one last stop at the self-service gas station and Sarah jumped out of the car and changed character. "We work here and I have to wash your windshield," she said. Her friend understood this quick switch and was out of the car to join her. Sam was eager to jump out as well. But When I asked him to remain in the car, he appeared to accept this with a twist in his story line. "Oh yeah! Pretend I'm the Black Stallion and you were looking for me and you found me!"
As I drove home, I pondered over the various story lines that went on during this excursion, realizing that it is a child's intent to play in the world...and I wondered if they thought it was my intent to be the wolf-owner, the taxi driver, or the person who finds the black stallion. In thinking about this, I let out a hearty laugh.
"Are you happy that you found me?" asked the stallion from the back seat.
"Yes. I'm happy."