Building castles on the sand

The twins are talking more and more and are now able to hold some sort of conversation although their train of thought is pretty much a stream of consciousness. And it's fun because we can now mess with them and at the same time, we can help with their building of wild ideas. I loved dreaming up grand schemes as a child, even now although my delusions of grandeur have somewhat taken a back seat to the realities of life. As a primary school student, when all the pieces eventually came together and I realised that I had fun writing, I came up with the wildest of compositions; some of which were published in the school paper but also led to me being questioned by the principal as to whether I was an abused child.

Anyway, Packrat and I value imagination very highly. We also know the pitfalls of it, great imagination also means the ability to spin yarns and this time, we are on the receiving end of it. Nonetheless, we see it as a worthy pursuit.

The best time to hold conversations with them is when they are both strapped in, in the car. There's less distraction and they aren't running off somewhere or snatching things away from one another. Usually what I do is to take cue from them and what they see and say.

This morning, Evan pointed out one of his favourite objects. The bus. And this was the conversation that ensued.

Evan: Big bus!
Me: Where does this bus go?
Evan: House.
Me: Where is this house?
Evan: Seaside!
Me: Whose house is this?
Evan: Evan house. (He has no sense of possession at this point)
Me: Oooh, what colour is the house?
Evan: White.
Me: What else is there at the house?
Evan: Helicopter!
Me: Helicopter? Which type?
Evan: Apache helicopter. One, two, three, four, five. Five apache helicopters! (Apparently, our seaside house has a huge helipad!)
Me: Wow, 5 Apaches? Is there anything else apart from the 5 Apaches?
Evan: Chinook!
Me: With the Singapore flag on it?
Evan: No flag. Chinook helicopter with crescent moon. No stars. (A Chinook from a Middle-Eastern country? Worrying.)
Me: (Trying to include Jordan, who up till this point has been gazing out the window) Jordan, what else is there at the seaside house?
Jordan: Fireworks.
Evan (Chirping in, panicking): No, no fireworks. Fireworks boom boom! Scared fireworks!
Jordan: Evan scared fireworks. No fireworks.
Me: Ok, apart from fireworks, does anyone stay in the seaside house?
Evan: Teacher Jess (Evan LOVES his Teacher Jess)
Jordan: Ah Ma, Ah Kong, Mommy, Papa, Evan, Jordan!
Evan: Duck Duck and Ele! (Their comfort toys)
Me: So many people. Is it a big house?
Evan: Small house. Seaside house.
Me: If it's a small house, are we all going to sleep in one room?
Evan: No sleep. Go seaside!







At that point, we'd reached the school gates. So to recap, evidently, we're rich enough to have a white albeit seaside vacation home with a huge garden or backyard to park our 5 Apaches, 1 Chinook (possibly stolen from a Middle Eastern nation or perhaps it defected). It's accessible by bus and every night we watch fireworks, don't sleep and just carvot in the ocean.

Sounds wonderful. Now he needs to grow up, make lots of money and buy his dad and I a vacation home like that somewhere. I'll settle for something without the helipad if it makes it easier for him.


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