purple stick saves the day

One of the advantages, to little people, of living in a large, round, room, is that you can run in the house forever and never come to the end of the line. I was re-shelving some books yesterday, sitting in the middle of the yurt by the big book shelves, and the kids were running rings around me. They had with them a purple, plastic stick, the handle to some broken toy. It’s about two and a half feet long and there is a little scrap of mylar or something hanging from the end. Picture the two of them, plus the stick, like a wild party or a loud tornado, zooming around the perimeter of the yurt, while I watch from the still point in the center.

On the first pass, Sophie, the four year old, has the stick and she is waving it in the air and marching. “Mom! It’s a parade!” Luc, the two year old, follows along behind, also marching with his little, fat arms waving around in circles. Which is what you do, if you are in a parade, of course.

On the next pass, Luc has the stick, and he is jabbing it in the air, chasing Sophie. He says, “Mom! I’m a pirate! This is my sword!” Sophie yells, “”Save me!” And then they are out of sight behind the shelves.

A minute later they emerge for the next loop around. Luc still has the stick and is still chasing Sophie, who is squealing and faking her death every few steps. He takes the stick and pokes her with it yelling, “I’m shooting you with the love gun!” She says, “I’m dead! You’ll have to kiss me back to life.” Which he does, and then, triumphant, he says, “Super Luc saves the day!”

I’ve given up shelving at this point, and am just watching the show.

On the next pass, Sophie has the stick in her teeth and she is loping along on all fours. “Bark!” she says, causing her to drop the stick. She picks it back up with her teeth and Luc appears with a piece of jump rope. “No, you need a leash.” Before he gets it on, they disappear behind the shelves again.

Once more they appear around the other side and Sophie still has the stick but now she runs up to me, touches me on the head with it and says, “This is my magic wand. I just turned you into a goon.” Then she throws it down and runs off.

Luc arrives, picks the stick up, and sits down beside me, holding the stick out in front of him, the picture of calm.

I say, “Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Fishing.”

Their improv is so fluid, their games so mutable. I’m glad I get to have front row seats.