An Elephant in the Sky

One of my earliest memories, and one of the handful I have of my father took place on a summer day when I was three or four. He called me outside to the front yard and pointed up. An airplane was soaring above us, leaving a trail of smoke. He helped me identify each letter as the plane twisted, turned, dove, and rose though the sky. We both laughed when we put it together, P-E-P-S-I.


As the smoke began to clear, we lay down on the grass. The lawn at our house on Parkview Avenue was so thick, that even in the middle of a heat wave, you felt cool laying on top of it. I picked blades of grass from the ground absentmindedly and we stared at the sky. He was the first to speak. "I think that's an elephant." I laughed in delight. It did look like an elephant, or maybe a tiger? And so it began. We spent (what felt like) hours staring at the clouds, carefully deciding what each resembled, from frogs to princess crowns and everything in between. It was simple. It was carefree.  It was the most perfect way to spend an afternoon when you're three (or thirty-three).


I’m not sure why that memory sticks out in my mind so vividly.  I have so few from my early childhood. But it does, just like it was yesterday. Whenever I look up to see a cloud-filled sky I'm immediately transported back to the front lawn of my childhood. And as for the Pepsi advertisement? It must have been effective, because I certainly do have an affinity for an ice cold Diet Pepsi...

In our house we have chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs (and Mickey Mouse), french fries that look like smiley faces, fruit snacks with Scooby Doo and Spider Man and sharks, macaroni in the shape of bunnies, and on and on. And on.


The thing is, my boys are immune to it.  They could care less if their Spaghetti-O’s are letters of the alphabet.  They’ve never commented on the shapes, colors, or other various ploys of savvy marketing executives focused on appealing to the toddler mind and pallet.

Instead, my boys embrace their creative spirit.

A few nights ago, Jack had tortilla chips with his dinner. He stared at them intently, turning them around in his chubby hands. He looked up at me, smiled slyly, held the chip victoriously above his head, and declared, "It's a...DUCK!". Colin squealed in excitement and agreed, affirming Jack's statement. With gained confidence, Jack picked up another chip, and this time it was a goat, then a scary dinosaur, and finally a boat.

Colin had a corn dog on his plate that was now a snail, a turtle in its shell, and a lightning bug.

Did any of those items actually resemble in the slightest their vivid descriptions? No. Of course not. But with each revelation, I enthusiastically agreed, and we talked about it. What is the snail doing? Why is he hiding in the corn dog? Is he scared? Is he going to surprise someone? Where is the boat sailing?

We make up stories, laugh loudly, and turn a simple dinner into an adventure.  Although, I will admit, when the boys start comparing my spaghetti to snakes, I  tend to lose my appetite.

We live in an era where toy and entertainment companies feed kids a slew of pre-fabricated characters, story-lines, and props--it’s almost as if imagination has been silenced, or at least muffled. Why imagine that a stick found in the yard is a sword, when you can grab your light saber (with sound effects) and pretend you’re a superhero?

My husband is the best at finding simple, ordinary, around the house items, and turning them into something special. An empty beer box turns into a robot costume. Discarded shoe boxes turn into a parking garage for the boys' matchbox car collection with a few careful snips. A finished paper towel roll? Bingo! A pirate looking glass. Or a telescope to see the moon. A box of noodles transforms into a musical instrument, suitable for a parade around the kitchen. And on and on.

To me, creativity is a skill, more than it is a talent. We are all born with the ability to be creative. It doesn't necessarily mean to be artistic, or musical. Case in point? My three year old can draw a better stick figure than me, and I was kindly asked to take Music Appreciation class in 8th grade over Choir, yet I consider myself to be a very creative individual...and I'm an accountant.  Last time I checked, accounting isn't a profession generally associated with creativity.

I learned a simple, yet important lesson on my front lawn: creativity is something that we can foster, develop, and nurture in our children, and can be done without piano, dance, trumpet, or art classes. Creativity can be part of our ordinary, everyday life.

So when my boys dump a basket of freshly folded laundry on the floor, jump in their "boat" and start searching for sharks, I'm right there with them, shrieking and jumping onto the couch to escape the dangerous waters of our family room.

- Laura