How come …

We all delight in the fun when our wee grandson aged two … dances with delight with a soft toy Santa that is both taller and wider than he is?

How come he will drag his soft-toy-Santa off the sofa, but squeal with delight when we take the same “inert object” with us so we can show this “inert object” all the snow falling outside the window?  How come we all think it is wonderful?  How come we go along with it?  How come I make Santa “walk” and “bounce” and “dance” … all with my  hand hidden behind Santa’s head (so that it is not too obvious)?

How come …

I get such joy at this picture of both sleeping?

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How come …

We think it grown-up and necessary to prove the non-existence of an “imaginary friend” who I have come to love, who I have come to make a part of me, who is better than therapy, cheaper than therapy, more available than therapy, more immediate than personal coaching, less intrusive than personal coaching?  A friend who always allows me to feel safe, allows me to be me, who allows me to change, to explore, to become not the “me” everyone else wants me .. but to be the me I want to become?

The me I was taught to fear becoming.

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How come …

We think it kind to squeeze the last ounce of goodness from something so gentle but so empowering?

How come …. 

We so often prefer to prove that my way is the right way (and yours is not)?

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