I spend most of my day pretending to be somebody else. Now, I don't mean I'm having an identity crisis (that's a whole other post), I mean I have to pretend to be a princess, baby or other cartoon character, a lot.
As previously mentioned in the last post sometimes I'm even a body part. Yikes.
I thought it would be a phase. In fact as I'm typing this my daughter is telling me I'm Elizabeth and she's Sarah. I would say she spends easily 80% of her home time as someone else.
This is makes me wonder, what is so unpleasant about her life that makes her want escape? The twelve hour sleep, the endless toys, the brain stimulating activities are just too awful to contend with and she must escape into a dream world to process it all.
The crazy, neurotic, first time Mom in me also worries she'll grow up to be schizophrenic and be pan handling on Bloor street by the time she's 18. Or, she'll be an actress, who will probably also need to pan handle on Bloor Street.
