Friday night, there was an art opening at my school. It was the annual show of faculty art, so JT and I got to see the work of my colleagues and his art teachers. We looked at the work, we talked about what he liked (and enjoyed a few snacks, of course). At the end of the evening, as I tucked him into bed, he announced, "those artists must have really good imaginations."
My boy is a big fan of imagination. He uses his imagination to make things: pictures, drawings, and the creation of new games from old toys are some of his favorite things to do. Lately, for example, he has turned a dozen of his playmobil soldiers into skiers. He does this by taping rifles (they are soldiers, remember) to their feet to make skis. Then they ski off of ramps made from a variety of toys re-fashioned for that purpose. Earlier this year, he made a card game for himself, drawing all the playing cards for the game. These activities are the outcome of his imagination. I don't know if he will grow up to earn his living as an artist, though I'd be thrilled if he did. But I am confident that he will grow up with an appreciation for art; with a respect for the limitless world of a good imagination.
That's very happy.