I never would have guessed that a game of “pretend” with my kids would leave me ready to take on the world By Kate Clancy
We are driving along the North West Coastal Highway, bound for Perth and a much-needed break at my mum and dad’s. There’s still three hours to travel before we reach Grandma’s when my daughter Kasey turns to me and innocently asks, “Mum, where have all the cows gone?” She hasn’t seen any since leaving home.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I reply distractedly, not having noticed the lack of cows on our journey. Right now my mind is on more pressing matters – like where I’m going to find the money to pay the stack of bills piling up at home.
Then I notice Kasey still staring at me, awaiting a further response. I shrug my shoulders impatiently. “Well, where do you think they’ve gone?”
Her unexpected reply comes back, wrapped in cheeky laughter. “The aliens have taken them, Mum!”
I look over at my gorgeous six-year-old, grinning mischievously, and I know I have a choice to make: I can either totally squash her imagination with a few sensible words, end the conversation, and resume the tedious task of driving; or maybe, just maybe, I can let loose. After all, when was the last time I forgot about my woes as a single parent and actually had some fun with my kids?
“Well, Kasey, why would aliens want to steal all the cows?” I begin cautiously.
“I don’t know, Mum. Why do you think?” She sneaks a look in my direction, searching my face for permission to continue her fantasy.
I smile at her and, before I know it, out pops my unusual reply: “Maybe they’re going to fly them to the moon!”
Her eyes light up and her face rewards me with a beaming smile.
“No Mum, they’re going to eat them for breakfast!” she yells, her joy filling the small space in the car.
“No, they’re going to make cow burgers and have them for tea!” a sweet voice yells from the back as her five-year-old sister Sammi joins in the game.
Together we begin to giggle and I suddenly feel a strange stirring inside of me: slowly, unexpectedly, my troubles are slipping away. I can’t help but smile.
“Oh no!” I exclaim, abruptly, my eyes widening with imaginary fear. “How are we going to save all those cows?”
Their replies come thick and fast. They don’t need to think, there is no searching, the imaginary answers are just there, ready to fall out of their tiny mouths. In fact, they spout ideas around the car so quickly, I can almost feel them bouncing off the windows.
And that’s when it starts. That’s when the car becomes a spaceship boasting a multitude of colours and functions. The gearstick becomes a “turbo master booster”; the windscreen wipers become lasers that can destroy aliens; and buttons all around me are capable of unleashing guns, bombs, nets, protective shields and many more gadgets that – until then – had remained a mystery to me.
“Oh, and Mum, don’t forget that button,” Kasey says, pointing to the unused cigarette lighter. “That’s the most important one, Mum, that’s the turbo. We have to go real fast because the aliens are fast, but with that we’ll catch them, don’t worry. But wait, I’ll tell you when to push it. Not yet, we have to get dressed.”
Kasey’s eyes are the size of golf balls. I swear it’s true. They are beautiful to watch, my girls, revelling in their new, imaginary world. And for the next 20 minutes that is where the three of us stay. Travelling the universe, searching for lost cows. Searching every moon, dodging laser beams, blasting aliens in battle with the most powerful and high-tech weapons. There is no time to rest, no time to think. We just fly on instinct, for any delay is certain to have catastrophic results for all those cows.
“OK, girls. Now how are we going to catch the cows?” I ask.
“With our magic lassos, of course! They can catch anything you want,” Sammi tells me.
“Wow, can I have one of them too?” I ask excitedly.
“No, Mum,” she chastises. “Don’t be silly. How can you use the lasso if you’re flying a spaceship?”
I guess even in the imaginary world of space battles, there has to be some logic, but I feel slightly disappointed. Now that I’ve let my guard down, I want to experience everything with my kids.
But there’s no time to despair. Their voices and laughter increase in volume as they don special flying suits and mighty helmets that will protect us all, and wristwatches that can tell more than just time – for, at that moment, Sammi uses hers to give me the exact coordinates where the aliens have been hiding all the cows. And you’ll never guess where: behind the moon! That’s right, they’re eating cheese and drinking chocolate milkshakes. Quickly we round them up.
“Good job, girls,” I say excitedly.
“I think we’ve rescued at least a thousand cows today.”
And later, when we return to earth with the cows, a smile plays at my mouth, as in the distance in a large paddock by the highway I spy a herd of cows contently eating grass. It’s an amazing coincidence that these are the first real cows we had seen since starting our adventure.
“Well done, girls!” I cry out. “Mission successful: look over there, the cows are back.” I point to the side of the road.
“Wow, Mum, we’re heroes!” Kasey squeals.
“We sure are, babe.”
And in that moment, when I look at my girls and see the satisfied smiles on their faces, I am the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.
Kate Clancy, 36, lives in Geraldton, WA, with her daughters Kasey and Sammi. She is a TAFE lecturer in Information Technology and studies part-time.
