Vicarious Rocky

Indy's school does this super cool thing where the kids have "sharing" circle time and they just have a topic, or not, and share random stuff with the class. The teacher's aid then types up what each kids says, if anything, and then emails it to all the parents. As Sage says, it's the best email of the day. And not just because you get to hear what your kid says. They are all hilarious.

Today, upon learning that their homemade bookmarks earned $113 for Heifer international, Sophia yelled, "Holy Guacamole!" Yesterday, Catherine told everyone they have mouse poop in their house. I have been to Catherine's century home in Hudson and it's immaculate and straight out of a magazine, so I can imagine her mother is mortified. My kid, yesterday, told everyone I was in a car accident and he went on and on with the details about police getting involved and a mechanic and how he had to stay with Grammy because I was so busy.

All a lie. He made the whole intricate story up. And since I know these parents and my family gets the email too, I fielded calls and emails for an hour after the email went out, letting everyone know, that there was no car accident.

Why would he spin such a tale? Well, Grammy had a car accident and some of his details in the story sounded familiar to her real story. He also started the story with . . "I woke up and . . ." so I think it may have been an elaborate dream. I remember when I was his age, I was convinced I could actually fly because it was a recurring dream that I would swim, front crawl, through the air. I told my Mom I could, and she told me it was a dream, but I never believed her. I thought it was real for at least a full year, even though when challenged I couldn't do it on command.

I wonder what the developmental switch is, in your mind, that suddenly lets you distinguish sleeping from waking consciousness. Anyone know?