Real imagination

Today we let our 5-year-old son watch Jurassic Park for the first time. We had the usual discussion about it before popping it into the VCR (yes, it’s actually a VHS tape, and yes, we own a VCR for this very reason). The discussion went something like this: Bad words? I don’t think so. Nudity? Not that I remember. Violence? The dinosaurs can be kinda aggressive.

Hmm…dinosaurs…aggressive…pretty much in line with what my five year old already knew, so we went for it. We did the usual “this is just a pretend movie about a pretend place” and jumped right in. He has a Discovery Channel box set called Prehistoric Park, so this was one step up in the potential fear factor.

He thoroughly enjoyed it, but it didn’t seem to make a huge impression. A few hours later, he was playing with his mini dinos in the moon sand when he looked up at me and said, “Mama, the little dinosaur was hungry and couldn’t find anything to eat. So he scavenged around and found a dead T-REX (insert eyes the size of saucers for impact) and he ate him. Now he is SO full!”

I looked up and acknowledged this amazing story with “Jake, you tell such good stories.”

His reply? “Mama, they aren’t stories, they are real imagination!”

Yes, Jake, yes they are.

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