Snow is exciting for kids, with the construction of snowmen and the whoosh of fast sleds. But snow is dreadful when it’s accompanied by arctic temperatures that make spending more than a few minutes outside dangerous. This winter we’ve had to explain the phenomenon of frostbite and ask the question, “is building a snowman worth losing a finger?”
The answer was, “yes.”
So, as the mounds of white taunted them, we barred the doors and hoped the siren song of winter would be muted by the theme from Wild Kratts.
Today, though, is beautiful. A balmy 36 degrees–but it’s Monday. School calls and outside diversions will have to wait. We hope that we’ve turned the corner on this winter and that we will no longer have to stretch our imaginations to create more inside games. We’ve hosted carnivals, markets, restaurants and even a kind-of TED talk series for a captivated, stuffed animal audience. My favorite of the inside games, though, was not one that was created with parental support–or supervision. It wasn’t even a game really. It’s more a state of mind.
The tail store.
My 5 year old crafted a selection of tails from pipe cleaners. The almost-3 year old got in on the game too. But one tail was not enough for him. He sported a dual tail apparatus while running endless laps through the kitchen, dining room and living room.
“Look at me! I’m running. I so fast. My tails are so fast. Do you see dem?”
The oldest was nonchalant about the tail thing, not partaking in the donning of tails but offering creative advice along the way, “I think you should use the purple for a dragon tail…..Yes! That’s it. More dragon-y.”
But the 5 year old was serious. After creating a whole collection of tails, Sassy Bottom Baubles Spring/Summer 2015 (look for them in next month’s Vogue), she disappeared for a while in her room. After a few minutes she came looking for tape, and I obliged. Normally, a request for tape made outside of the scope of communal arts and crafts time and without explanation means something is broken, ripped or otherwise destroyed. But, I was tired and lacking in motivation so I didn’t protest when she zoomed by me, on all fours, with the roll of tape in her mouth.
A few more minutes went by and I began to wonder about the quiet and fear for the safety of the pet fish who have taken up residence in her room. I walked in and found her working carefully to affix a selection of tails to her dresser. She turned to me, face beaming like the sunshine we all longed for, “It’s my collection.”
“This way, I can choose what kind of tail I want, whenever I want,” she explained. “When I feel like being a tiger, or a mouse. When I want to be a kitten or a cheetah, I pick one and put it on, and Taa-Daa…I’m a tiger.”
“I love it,” I told her. “They’re beautiful.”
And they were. They were beautiful. A simple and simply glorious depiction of the way kids can feel empowered to be something or anything they want. She wants to be a tiger, and an astronaut, and a dancer. She does not see any of these as impossible. She is not afraid to make her dreams known. To give them voice–and tail, for all the world to hear and see.
I want her to stay this way.
I don’t want her to be quiet about what she wants. I want her to express her dreams and make them happen. Unless that dream is to build a snowman when the thermometer reads “LL”–lower limit–i.e. so cold the damn thing cannot even tell you how cold it is. Quiet and a little less relentless would be good in that situation.
Or maybe not.
Necessity and dreams are the parents of invention. With an adequate supply of pipe cleaners, she just might invent some newfangled snow gear before moving on to her career as an intergalactic ambassador of tiger dancing.