Abigail, our oldest, has a care-giver personality. She loves looking after things, especially if she is helping where there is a need. Therefore she often plays nurse. Her auntie and one of her cousins are nurses, and there is no doubt that she wants to be one. But occasionally it does get depressing. Because when you come in her room, the entire joint has been converted to a critical-care unit. Every single doll, teddy bear and anything else that mimics a living thing is being treated. And every single one of the worst maladies known to child have befallen each and every one of these victims.
Me: “Oh, nice room. What’s up with Cheese?” (Cheese is one of her teddy bears.)
Abigail: “Oh, he broke his leg.”
Me: “Oh my! That sounds serious. Are you helping him?”
Abigail: “I am. He also has cancer. And his eye fell out.”
Me: “Goodness! That’s a lot of suffering for one bear. I see there are others in this hospital room too. You must be busy.”
Abigail, shaking her head impatiently as she nods me toward the door: “Um, yes! They all have infections in their mouths. And this one’s head was cut off in an accident. We’re very busy here.”
Me: “Head cut off?! Well, it’s a good thing he’s got a well-trained medical professional here.”
Amalie also sees behaviours and mimics them, often taking the transformation to new heights. For the longest time, her personal hero was Ariel, The Little Mermaid. Aside from knowing every single word (and song) in the movie, she would only wear her panties around the house, and a long, red blanket on her head. Because she needed to have long, red hair. It would drag on the floor, but she would perfectly balance it and it never fell off. She’d wear it to the table, and took herself very seriously. Company’s here! Oh look, there’s our child in underwear and a red blanket wig. We just stopped explaining it and told people she’s mentally ill.
Lately, she has taken a real shining to Bethany Hamilton, the teenaged surfing sensation that lost an arm to a shark attack. Amalie is happy in that she can continue to wear little or nothing to dress appropriately for the role, but she is also surfing on absolutely every single surface. She takes a pillow with her wherever she is, and it’s her surfboard. She has all the moves – arms out, balancing, crouching, jumping up. It’s priceless. Until she figured out she can surf down the stairs. On her pillow. On hardwood. With no head protection.
Tom Sedens is the husband to his dream girl, the co-founder of 3 kids that make his world go round, blogger at wildsau.ca, and a grateful soul for a life full of blessings.