I suck at pretend. There’s almost nothing that terrifies me more than my daughter asking, “Can you play with me?”
I know it means we will have to “play school.” We take all of her stuffed animals to Huck’s room (school) and they sleep (lie in his bed for 10 seconds) and then we take them all back home. (her room) Then, she will say, “It’s time to wake up and go back to school.” We have to do it… ALL… OVER… AGAIN.
I am going to be a great roller coaster buddy at theme parks.
I would watch The Incredibles several times in a week without being bored. The Goonies? A gazillion.
I think Easter isn’t complete without dyeing eggs the old-fashioned way.
The only downside of a baby pool is that I can’t fit all the way inside.
Blowing bubbles is awesome, crafts are cool, bike rides are the best. Pretend is a bunchabullshit.
I don’t even know what my problem is. I can do an incredible Deep South accent while reading a Corduroy book, switching to the Spanish laundromat owner like an Oscar-winner. But, ask me to find something for two fairies to do inside a doll house and I draw a blank.
I’m like, “Do they sleep? Cause that’s what I wanna do.” “Do they dance? There’s no music… so that’s ridiculous.” “Do they have a tea party?” “Ok… we poured the tea. We took a sip. Now what the hell do we do? Tea party… over.”
I understand that imaginary play is uber important in my child’s development. I nearly cry tears of joy when I see her cuddle “her baby” bunny and wrap her in a blanket to sleep. It’s so sweet! But, I guess at some point the part of my brain tasked with imagination shriveled up like a raisin and died.
MY IMAGINATION
I run into the same problem with my niece. We’ll be playing in the pool and she’ll be pretending to run a restaurant. (Because the chick is an entrepreneur. She was charging us for pages out of a coloring book at 6. She has since graduated to selling bracelets for a profit.) She’ll ask to take my order and I ask for mashed potatoes, lobster and perhaps dessert. I pretend to pay her, pretend to consume it, end up with a mouthful of chlorine water. Next time she asks what I want to order, I’m like, “Nothing. I just want to get a tan!” (I don’t actually yell at her, but I do eventually start turning her down, which makes me feel AWFUL)
As for myself, I think I am a pretty fun parent.
When playing pretend, I’m like a creepy, bald uncle who’s never held a baby.
Living The American Scream 
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