Let's pretend

About a half an hour ago, Fiona claimed to be famished. I told her that she could go downstairs to get a banana immediately; or, if she preferred to wait for me to finish with the vacuum sweeper, I'd make a different snack. Now, once the toast is ready, I hear Fiona calling down from where she and Nora have been playing hard saying that she'd like to close her door because the two of them are pretending to be cats, and they'd better not get out right now.

This is kind of interesting to me-- not because Fiona is pretending to be a cat, because she's had an affinity for cats and pretending to be one for years now-- but because of the high-powered pretending. Fiona is, in some ways, a rather serious kid. She likes to hide, she likes to try to tell jokes, and she thoroughly enjoys listening into adult conversations. She can play with other kids, loves to curl up with her parents or other grownups, and even enjoys time amusing herself, but she is not a huge pretender. It's not that she doesn't do it, but I'd wager that her imaginary world is the size of a suburb, not the kingdoms she reads about in her books.

Why? Is it nature? Is it nurture? Are lots of kids this way? Does it really even matter? Is it even true or is it just MY imagination? Who knows, but I think it's pretty awesome that I have a piece of toast ready for each of my kitties when they're ready to come downstairs for them.