I have always known that a child’s imagination cannot be truly rivalled by an adult’s simply because, as well as imagining, they believe wholeheartedly in what they create. I was given a taste of this earlier in the week when my three-year old daughter told me that dragons lived at the bottom of our street. Obviously she had to show me their lair. So off we went for a little walk down the road and lo and behold there was a little circle of grass, surrounded by trees, in which sat a huge mound of earth. According to my daughter, this is the entrance to the dragon’s lair. She is adamant that she has seen a purple and black dragon entering through this mound of earth and makes me stop and stare at the patch of land every time we pass…which is often. She has also discovered the entrance to the fairy kingdom, which is, according to her, in a hedgerow on the way to the local shops. She has told me that it is guarded by a spider and that to enter you must drink a magic potion to shrink yourself. She warned me not to accept sweets from the fairies as then i would never be able to leave the fairy land.
I wonder if my imagination was ever this colourful, I am sure, as adults, we forget the games we used to play and how we actually believed in the stories we wove.