Ten-Finger Exercises

Playing

Play is something most adults don't get enough of. We seldom even have the opportunity to be truly playful. Our activities, our sports are all so competitive; and if we don't compete with others, we compete with ourselves for our own personal bests.

We flew to Newberg and had a birthday picnic in the park with all Hap's wife's family. Lucy and her friend both took their bicycles, and I'm sure she put at least five miles on hers during the afternoon. Pretty good for a girl who just turned six and just learned to ride within the last month! She is a ridin' fool!

This afternoon we dropped Bill and Hap off at the plane; and while they were doing the pre-flight, we went back to the house to get the gold fish we'd forgotten. They are too large for their little tank, although pretty darn small by ordinary goldfish standards. They're about the size of little goldfish crackers! Their tank is one of those vertical cylinders, and the poor fish were probably doomed to die of old age swimming mostly up and down.

Katie took me out on the back porch, while Lucy whizzed around the cul de sac on her bike, no longer requesting me to watch. Katie asked if I wanted to play "Mom and Honey." Of course I agreed. "I'll be the Mom," she said. Of course.

We were standing in front of her little plastic kitchen, and she began opening all the doors, looking. She held out a turquoise plastic rectangle that I couldn't identify and asked if I wanted a remote. (I had a little trouble understanding her word, plus I don't keep my remote in a pan in the oven.) I said yes, so she pretended to push some buttons for me. (I had a little trouble understanding her word, plus I don't keep my remote in a pan in the oven.) Not knowing what to do next, unless I wanted to watch pretend TV, I pretended to be hungry.

She said, “All right, honey, I will fix you lunch,” and rumbled through the cabinets some more. I said I’d like a hot dog, and could she put some water in a pan and cook it. So she turned on the tap in the little pink sink and filled the pan with imaginary water. Then, since I gave her directions, she put the pan full of hotdogs on the stove to cook. (She may have only had hot dogs cooked on the grill or in the microwave—I thought about that later.)

“Here’s your hot dog, honey,” she said, and she squirted imaginary mustard on it. She fixed one for herself too, and we sat down and ate them. Then it was almost time to go, and I said, “Don’t we need to do the dishes?”

Katie answered, “They’re all clean.”

I said, “No, we just used them. We’ll have to wash them.”

She smiled at me, with her sparkly little smile, and said, “Imagination.”

The goldfish traveled in the back of the plane in a large ziplocked bagful of water. They were not too unhappy with their cramped quarters, and were ecstatic to be swimming so fast. (If you consider the speed of the plane, they were going about 120 miles per hour most of the way.) When we arrived home, we released them into our pond. They took off in four different directions, explored the place thoroughly and surfaced for food. The koi in residence couldn't have been less interested. Whew!