Piper is known for her play. She has an incredible imagination. She can make a game out of anything, anywhere. Her best material, though, probably comes from life.

Right now she’s in the living room sorting through the leftover plastic junk that we often toss into the footstool, which is supposed to be a toy box. Our cleaning is sporadic and mostly of the quick-hide-as-much-as-you-can-there’s-someone-at-the-door variety. You can imagine the footstool bits. You may even remember that I once found Piper stuffing her dirty socks in there in her best hoarder move yet. (You can refresh your memory here)

Her game today involves a wooden doll, three Legos, a dishtowel, a stuffed chihuahua, and seventeen pieces of broken Happy Meal plastic parts.

“You guys want to play all day?” the wooden doll yells.

“We do!” the chorus of bits replies.

“But what about your chores?” prods the wooden doll, raising her voice. “How come I have to be the bad guy?”

The chorus has no good answer. If the wooden doll could move her wooden arms to her wooden hips, she would.

Piper’s voice is now shrieking. “Don’t you think I want to play too?  But no. I’m the bad guy. You know you have chores to do. Why do you always make me be the bad guy?”

The chorus throws themselves one by one back into their foot stool. Piper makes the wooden doll mumble loudly to herself about how she has to tell everyone around here everything to do when they really should be doing it themselves. Grumble. Grumble.

It doesn’t sound like make believe anymore.