Sep 162014
 

Chilkat, in a happy and energetic mood 20 minutes before bed time begins in earnest, danced into the living room and found a cardboard box, forgotten with a trio or so of yesterday’s play session’s stuffed buddies. She whips around and looks at me, maniacally excited, and asks demurely, “Can I get in it?”

“Yeah, of course you can!” She actually squeals and crawls in. I say, “You know, you could pretend that’s a space ship.”

Stammering in an excited search for the words to describe the idea in her head, “And…can…can…can…you be…butterfly?! Can you be a space butterfly, Daddy?!!”

“Sure, of course!” And I flap my wings.

She proceeds to point out her space companions in her space ship, who are “spacin'” with her, because they don’t know how to fly. A momma space giraffe, and a baby space giraffe, and a kitty, and a puppy. She rocks the spaceship back and forth, chanting “Space drivin’, space drivin’!” She explains that she has to drive them because they don’t know how to fly.

“Daddy, can you get more buddies for space for me, that can’t fly, so I can space drive them?” I reach for a My Little Pony, who is unacceptable because she has wings (My Little Pegasus?) and can therefore fly on her own. Her crew expands by a lion and another puppy and a turtle and a baby pony.

“Space space space space space!”

I hope I never forget the look on her face.