Imagination vs. reality

We had an interesting "first" just a short while ago. Maia and I were driving out to meet Brian for lunch (a once-weekly bright spot on all of our calendars), and she started talking about motorcycles and scooters. We're accustomed to her saying things like "I'm going to ride my motorcycle" all the time--it's one version of her imaginative play. She says the sentence, but it doesn't necessarily mean that she goes about her business any differently. She's just walking around the yard as she was before--but she's riding a motorcycle!

Anyway, today she started to talk about her motorcycles and scooters, and how Brian was going to be bringing them in his car. I played along as I often do (particularly when I'm driving and can't engage in any other way), saying things like "Oh really? That's so cool!". She kept talking about it and building on it, including how she was going to ride her motorcycle to the gas station and to Zingerman's.

But then, when we arrived at Ahmo's to meet Brian, Maia was really upset that he didn't have a motorcycle or scooter in the back of his car! She cried and stuck out her bottom lip and insisted on looking in his car herself. She was really sad and disappointed. It was an interesting moment--the imaginative world that she so often creates for herself (in which she's at the beach, or cooking dinner, or is being "Horton" or "Auntie JoJo" or whomever) extended beyond its usual confines and became something that she thought was real.