Land

Zoli is on his own planet. It is that preteen clueless that we have already survived with his older brother. Yesterday when we were walking it became very clear to me how ensconced in his own head he really is. For once I played back. The giant spruce tree (tagged 1553) became a "docking station 1553" and I was a scout. He was the Warlord to whom I reported my "scouting". The imaginative powers of imaginative power. He is the emperor, the war general, the fighter pilot, the mad explorer. Anything with a stick in his hand (to be used as a prop for even more fantasy play) and now he has four acres of his own private snow. Plus the park (another 47 acres of trees, rocks and doggy heaven). The weather is finally perfect for outside play. Cold enough to snow but warm enough to breathe and best of all--warm enough to PACK the snow. I can't wait to see what he comes up with today. I happily remember building forts and digging tunnels (esp. the winter of '78 and its legendary ice storm). You need space to play big. I wouldn't trade this property, this freedom for them to ride bikes safely--to climb trees-- for anything. I like glancing out the window & seeing my boy and his dog, busy creating an igloo,... or whatever it is.