This is the scene I walked into this morning (see picture). Maren has been into making fairy houses, barns, doll homes, and dioramas out of any boxes in the house, so I’ve gotten in the habit of putting them in her room. I knew these relatively large boxes would be a hit.
Together, Maren and Greta had climbed into their respective boxes and were pretending that they were in a castle. Note that Greta was also on an important phone call.
Greta is shouting to me, “Mom! Mom! We’re in da boxes! Dat’s Mawen’s box and dis is my box!” (Greta frequently speaks in a style that requires all exclamation points.)
Maren is saying over her, “No, Greta, these are not boxes. These are our castles.” Complete with eye roll. And then a quick grin because she’s having too much fun to be annoyed by her little sister.
I sit down with them and I help them move their boxes around and gave them markers so that they could decorate their
They sat in those boxes for an hour.
Greta: “Mom, wook at dis! I cowering a booful fwower on my castle!”
Maren: “Mom, can you make Greta give me the purple? I need to have a field of purple flowers out this window.”
And we giggled.
And we played.
And we imagined.
And they colored.
And they dreamed.
I stayed with them for that whole hour. I played along with them. I listened and I laughed and I took their pictures. It will be a moment I will remember for the bliss that it was: summertime with no schedule to keep, free entertainment, childish wonder, sisterly love, and a mama whose cup runneth over with the knowledge that this, right here, is as good as it gets.