Imagination Gone Wild

The other day, my daughter's kindergarten teacher approached me cautiously asking, "Is your son all right?"  Apparently, Frida told her class that her brother went to the hospital and had both his eyes taken out.  I guess she forgot to bring anything for 'show and tell.'  A good story will always do in a pinch. Her brother is fine.  He hasn't been to the hospital and both his eyes are still intact - where they're supposed to be. 

It's a good thing Frida's kindergarten teacher appreciates her imagination.  Once she finds out a story isn't based in truth she will go on to praise her and predict that she will be a playwright or an actress one day.  She even gave us a copy of an article about the author, Maxine Hong Kingston, who also made up elaborate stories when she was little.
It does make me feel better to hear that it's normal and even a good thing to have such an active imagination.  People do stare a bit fearfully when she is acting out a part in public.  Recently, at a get-together of some friends, Frida performed an impromptu song that started like this:  "Oh, my grandma died.  And no one cared . . ."  (for the record, she has two living grandmas and one living great grandma and we care about all of them.  A lot).

Last summer, she went through a stage where she told people that we were from Mexico.  Not too big a lie but embarassing when she told actual Mexicans.  I couldn't figure out why she started doing this until I realized how much she identifies with the children's book about Frida Kahlo.  I bought it for her first Christmas mostly because we spell her name the same way.  Frida likes the way Frida Kahlo used her imagination to entertain herself after she was in an almost fatal accident as a young girl.  She had lots of imaginary friends.

 In spite of being a twin with another sibling and lots of friends, Frida relies on her imagination in the same way.  When her twin sister won't play with her she says, "OK, I will just have to play with one of the invisible girls!"  The other day she complained to me that an invisible girl was not being very nice.  According to Frida, Mila, our resident invisible girl, is 'a little bit nice but a lot of mean.'  I know she's having a bad day when even the imaginary friends start acting up.  And I start to worry a bit that she takes her imagination too far sometimes.  But it is one of her gifts and we mostly encourage her to use it.  At least, as my mother would say, she'll never be bored!