The Maker

Yesterday, Jess was sick. Luckily it was a Sunday and we had very little we had to do. So as the wife was holed up in our bedroom, Emerson and I played in her room.

E.K. has really been very good at pretending lately. She’s always making up stories about her cat (not real) Treasure and adventures they go on. Mostly Treasure, the “Palace Pet” of Ariel from The Little Mermaid, bonks her head on a door or is scared of a dog or fox and Emerson comes to the rescue. It’s good fun.

But yesterday, we took pretend to a whole new level. I laid on her soft rug in the middle of her room as she kept wanting to feed Treasure or build a bridge to crawl over a rive or a myriad of other things. And as we need materials to create these spectacular make-believe stories, we had to use our map (Dora the Explorer’s map we bought months ago) to reach The Maker.

The Maker was mom, who was resting in bed. Emerson would yell, “We have to get it from The Maker,” as she sped off through the hall, past the kitchen, onto the jute rug of the dining room, and back to the hardwood floors connecting living room to bedroom. The pitter-patter of little feet.

Emerson would approach the side of the bed and request whatever magical material we needed to complete our mission.  Jess would dig under the covers or under a pillow and pull out whatever was needed and hand to Emerson who would then retrace her steps holding her hand high in the air as she came screaming like a freight train back to me.

We played The Maker for a good hour and she was exhausted by the end of it. Her, Jess and I, all.

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