The Age of Pretend.

Pin It

It is a known fact that Matthew is only actually Matthew as you and I know him about 40% of the time. The other part of the time he’s some form or another of alter Matthew ego. A one-man swat team. A police officer. An evil villain bent on world domination. A magic frog. A pirate. A wizard. An astronaut. A paleontologist. Sometimes he’s even a skateboard or a bike or a dump truck that’s come to life, and can walk and talk like a person -- but is NOT a person, because they are a skateboard or a bike. Or something really weird like that.

Of course, more than anything, though, he pretends to be a cowboy. Matthew thinks cowboys are the shit. In fact he loves to pretend he’s a cowboy so much that sometimes he blends his alter-cowboy-ego into another. Like a cowboy frog. Or a cowboy paleontologist. Or a cowboy dump truck that’s come to life and learned to practice wizardry with Harry Potter and is now a magic cowboy dump truck who pirates on the weekends.

I can’t tell you how many pictures I have of Matthew eating cereal or coloring a workbook page or crafting a sock puppet or sneaking cookies or even just sleeping in nothing but racecar underpants and a great, big, old cowboy hat. Obviously. I mean, cowboy hats take priority over pants any day of the week.

So it shouldn’t have been shocking to me when Scarlett came thump-thump-thumping with her big, heavy toddler steps into the kitchen the other day with Matthew’s red cowboy bandana tucked between her chin and her chest, trying diligently to hold it there while she walked around. I laughed it off at first. And I tried to ignore how cute it was because SERIOUSLY, I HAVE TOO MANY COWBOY HAT PICTURES ALREADY; A woman has to draw the line somewhere. But she circled the downstairs eight times, going no where, just holding that bandana under her chin. Picking it up every time it dropped and putting it right back into place, so that she could walk around some more. Then came the clencher… She went for the hat.

For three hilarious minutes she tried to juggle holding the bandana tucked under her chin, and lifting the cowboy hat to her head. Unsuccessfully. While I laughed at her. And took pictures.

Eventually I tied it around her neck the way I’m always doing for her brother. And I helped her balance the ten gallon over her head.

And in the following few moments, sitting there, playing with my children on the floor, snapping silly photos over peels of shrieking laughter, I fell in love with motherhood as if I were only meeting it for the very first time. And I found myself thinking something totally profound:

“Oh my Gosh, I love these people.”

I really, really do.