I always thought I would be awesome at playing with my kids. I would be the coolest mom and would rumble and tumble every spare minute I had. Then, I had a kid and awesome…I am not.

1. I get bored. SO bored. Playing with dinosaurs or cars just doesn’t thrill me quite so much. I try, though. Everyday.

2.He has WAY too much energy. I can only run around like a manic for no reason for so long. And crawling on the floor rescuing unknown imaginary people from the gigantic fire that supposedly surrounds us is exhausting.

3.I do it wrong. He tells me so. The other day he told me I was the train conductor, so I said, with a tip of my “hat” (I felt like getting into character….), “Ok! Woo-woo!” He looks at me like I am some sort of moron. “Mom. The whistle is over there.” Silly me. The whistle is at the FRONT of the car. Not the back. This is a constant conversation. I engage in his world and am quickly let to know that I have no idea how to BE in his world. That’ll depress ya real quick.

4.He has new friends. New IMAGINARY friends. And I get in their way. All the time. I’m sorry. I can’t see them! I don’t know that “Boy” hasn’t made it in the car yet and that is why you are standing outside of the car in still silence, patiently waiting for him to get in first. Forgive me for intruding in your method of proper car entry.

Basically, I can’t keep up. I try. I miss having an imagination like his. And he has one heck of an imagination. It is fascinating to watch and it makes me a super proud mama because it really is very cool of him. I wish I was better at being apart of it all. I have to say, Caleb did explain to me last night how "Boy" needs his bone to be thrown if I am to make "Boy" happy. So, maybe, just maybe, Caleb is letting me in on some of the secrets of his world.