Imaginary drama

Over the past couple of weeks, my two year-old son has collected an impressive fleet of all kinds of vehicles. He now has a tractor, a red car, a grey and white car, an excavator, a fire truck, and a small airplane. They travel with him in our campervan wherever we go.

You might wonder why we give our son so much crap, or how we store all this stuff in our campervan, a Ford Nugget, which is the size of any standard small van.

It’s simple. His entire collection, including the most specific details, are all imaginary.

He started it about when we left, three weeks ago. We thought it was pretty funny, him pretending to drive a car, open the door, hop in, buckle up. He’s making weird gestures on his sides, I think to shift gears.

It’s kinda cute.

Not long after this, he wouldn’t walk without his car, and soon he had invented cars where we also had to sit next to him, or in the back. He has specific instructions. Instructions that become increasingly tough to live up to. We usually just play along. It’s innocent. He’s two… Imagination is a good thing, right?

And so, he brings his vehicles everywhere.

Or better put: he insists that we bring his imaginary vehicles everywhere.

He is pretty proud of his cars. If you don’t follow his specific instructions, or pay proper attention to his car, he will cook up some imaginary drama.

I have for example accidentally stepped on his cars and plane a couple of times. I broke the damn things! Windows shattered, doors broken. I’m quite rough apparently. Result: drama.

Last week he told me that he had to go to the toilet. Together, we hopped into his fire truck, drove to the toilet building on the campsite, where he took a good fifteen minutes to fabricate a good pile (nothing imaginary about that one). Meanwhile I had forgotten the fire truck. Apparently so did he, because after I wiped his butt and we washed our hands, we walked back without the truck. It wasn’t until we were back at our spot that he realized we were not in his truck.

There was a good dose of drama.

Nothing could convince him or calm him.

I ended up getting back to the toilet building – alone – to pick up his imaginary fire truck, and return it to its rightful owner. First time in my life that I drove a fire truck. I can imagine it’s a lot of fun.

My son was happy again.

In similar fashion, I have gotten out of the car after packing up and getting ready to leave – only to pick up an imaginary airplane, or a tractor. They’re all in the back, as they should be.

Yesterday, I broke his imaginary tractor’s imaginary passenger seat, so I walked with an imaginary bench on my shoulder for a while.

Nobody prepares you for the weirdness of raising kids. Maybe my kids are weirder than others?

So much fun raising a toddler, you cannot imagine!