Most mornings a girl and her brother went to the land of pretend. As soon as school ended they scampered back upstairs. 

All they wanted to do was play.

They played in their room, on the stairs, under the table, on the windowsill, and under blankets. You see, the land of pretend was portable.

Mom read stories. Dad told stories. Those stories were often adopted into the land. 

This world reached outdoors. Leaves and sticks, rocks and shells, wildflowers and weeds were incorporated. Anything could happen anywhere.

Yes, blankets could become supercapes.

Yes, a Barbie could comfort the orphan cowboy.

Yes, Batman taught the animals to fly and fight.

Yes, wooden Christmas ornaments would attend a fireman’s birthday party.

No, it didn’t matter that a toy had parts missing. Or that another had ragged clothing.

However for one, life was especially hard. The standards of behavior in the land had been broken by this toy and it was sent to live forever on the roof of the dollhouse.

Sometimes one of the two children had to sit in time-out.

Or errands had to be done or schoolwork took very long.

But all they wanted to do was play.

This was the fuel of childhood wonder. This was nourishment for their little minds. No one sat down and taught them how. It was already inside. No matter what wildness was happening, it all made sense to them. 

Yes, this fits in our pretend land today. No, this does not.

In the land of pretend, authorities seldom saw or corrected the action. It was the safest place for little storey-makers as the foundation of their lives was being formed.

Mom read stories. Dad told stories. The land of pretend grew richer.

The impossible happened in a second. Sadness was overcome, conflicts settled. Courage and kindness emerged. Loudness was vital. 

The laughter when friends joined filled every corner.

Sometimes play enfolded with such importance that lunch traveled upstairs and was quietly placed inside the boundaries. Pretenders can eat with no break in their concentration.

However, at the most dramatic moment one of them had to go to the restroom. The toys had to wait. The adventure of the day waited too. 

Then, in earnest, it resumed. 

The inner world of the two children was interwoven, bonding them in the precious childhood land.

Pretending took them everywhere.  And we still talk about those beautiful days.

In my older years I could use some time in the land of pretend. Because all I want to do is play.