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Imagination

Petra’s developed quite a sense of humor lately, and she’s also gotten rather fond of make-believe.  A few weeks ago, when my mom was still here, she was teasing Petra a little, going around the table and pointing at one or another of us and asking, “Is that your mom?”  Each time Onock pointed out the wrong person, Petra giggled and exclaimed, “No!  That’s not my mom!”

When, finally, Onock pointed at me and asked, “Is that your mom?” Petra’s laughter grew even siller and she shook her head no.

I laughed then, too, and asked, “Where’s your mom?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled and said, “Far away.”

“What’s she doing?” I asked.

“Cooking dinner,” Petra said.

For the past little while, we’ve been asking her now and again where her mom is, and she always humors us, reiterating that she’s far away, sometimes cooking dinner, sometimes sleeping.  The story has been fleshed out a little more, too, and we’ve learned that Petra’s mom has a yellow car and lives in a blue house.

Also, her name is Snowboard.  Clearly there was something not quite right with her mother.