Imagination

Isn't it sad that we loose it. A couple of days ago Margaret stuck some white paper on top of an empty box, drew some circles on it and told Matthew it was a cook top. Matthew and Adam then spend the best part of an hour and a half pretending they were cooking things and eating them.

I was laying in bed this morning and Matthew was hurtling up and down the hall way passed the bedroom door pushing a dump truck. On one pass he tried to change course and come into the bedroom. He wiped out. He came in telling me he had hurt is elbow and side. I asked him how he had done it and replied that he had been going past and tried to turn the corner but his socks wanted to go straight ahead.