May Imaginations

I imagine that flying through a cloud would be about as magical as running on Sunward Path today.  Water hung in the air, suspended like paralyzed droplets of rain.  It beaded on my face then drizzled down my brow.  Birds darted through branches of hushed trees that hung overhead.  Their songs flirted through the fog.  Filtered sunlight illuminated the gray haze and made the fresh foliage appear florescent green against the auburn mud.  JJ bounced happily along in the Bob.  "My blanket's wet, Momma," he observed.  And by the time we shuffled back to 414, it most certainly was.

It was a good day for imagining.  Here in Frandsenland, most days are.  At my OB appointment I imagined baby boy's little fist swishing deliberately toward the heart beat-o-scope.  At Wal-Mart Aaron imagined that the shopping cart's only purpose was to run him over, unless he beat me to the next item on the list.  He darted to and fro, dodging the front end of the cart, so as not to get "creamed."  At home I was Victor, the only engine capable of fixing all of the "popped pistons" and "broken boilers" the boys could come up with.  While cooking dinner Aaron and JJ began running laps down the hall and around the double doors--announcing the beginning of each race with serious valor.  

And then, a magical idea dawned.

"Will you do your best for the Frandsens? For our family?" I asked.
"I'll win for the United States of America team!" Aaron responded.
"Yes, yes, I know that" I said, "But no matter what team you're on, you're always representing the Frandsens! Go United States of America!  Go Frandsens!"
Aaron got a big smile on his face and loudly repeated, "Go Frandsens!"

And then he won the gold.  JJ too.  "Go Frandsen!" JJ repeted, adding a few arm twists and a fist bump. We found trophies: a light saber, a super car, a back scratch we use to fish things out from under the couch.  The best kind of trophies, of course--the kind that requre a little more imagination.