When I was his age I used to do the same thing, making rooms from boxes, then farms and some fields from those old polystyrene ceiling tiles we used to have in the '70's, painting them green and putting matchstick fences around to keep the pretend animals in. I know this may be taking some imagination, but stick with me for a moment!
Anyway, I remember the whole thing got so big that I had to store it under my bed. One day when I came home from school, I went to my room to get it out and it was gone. Mum had 'tidied' my room. To her it had just been a load of old boxes and tiles, junk. To me it had been my reality. I can remember being very upset, and I'm sure she was to when she realised.
So, Small Sprogs boxes will not meet the same fate. I always ask both of them before throwing out any of their things, though it is tough with Small Sprog, because he is a hoarder.
Today he added another box. It was going to be his sisters room. He thoughtfully made things to go inside. It was very different from his own cardboard room. He made her a lamp, necklace holder, and a pretty rug. Bless him, and he did it all with thought and care as though bestowing real gifts on her.
When Husband arrived home we were all in the kitchen. Small Sprog gave him a guided tour of the box house. "This is my room, this is Tall Girls room" he said excitedly "Next I'm going to make mummy's room and a toilet and then downstairs....."
I carried on with preparing the meal, but inside I smiled.Perhaps it was a slip of the mind, but his description didn't include daddy's room. Perhaps Small Sprog is looking forward to having 'our' house as much as I am? I hope so.
12 comments:
At my junior school summer fair they used to have a miniature garden competition. The class room would be full of little gardens in old biscuit tins.
I used to love doing this too, when I was a child and we frequently encourage the children in the After School Club to do the same.
Children usually enact their lives in play ..... so its no wonder that dad slipped out of the equation!
Nuts in May
Perhaps he'll make a recording studio too!
Very telling. His play shows a good understanding of the physical world around him and a also a good idea of the emotional... kids don't miss much, do they?
I love your point. For us it's a heap of junk but to them.....
My mum was always careful not to throw away anything of mine away, no matter how rubbish-like or redundant it seemed. This was partly because her own mother threw away some of her prized poems one day. So good for you respecting Small Sprog's precious bits and pieces.
How intriguing that he didn't include daddy's room. Yes, I guess it was deliberate and he's very aware of what's going on.
I remember building some bloody great thing for my action men at school over several weeks of afternoon lessons.... actually I mostly remember staggering home with it.
My parents were great looking back they let me have loads of stuff that took up loads of space... even when I was older and all my band equipment made the place look like some music warehouse... speakers in the hallway, on the landing, amps in the cupboards, etc.
Oh that is so sweet- your son sounds so caring and thoughtful. What will he put in your room?
It is said they soon get used to changes, that children adapt well...and l do believe this...the only thing that should be a constant is loving them and you do that by the bucketful...they will be fine, YOU will be fine...
just keep telling yourself this....
A slip of the tongue or not, it shows who's most important in Small Sprog's life. I've kept so many things of my children's that my basement looks like a museum! I still have the Eiffel Tower youngest daughter and her friend made for a school project out of popsicle sticks:)
Sometimes what they don't say speaks volumes!!
I used to make cardboard houses when I was wee too....my Mum used to help :-)
C x
Small Sprog's huse sounds excellent
all the stuff that got chucked over the years
never included the children's art work
of which I still have great piles
they are now 30 and 28......
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