I know, I know, calling a post by the same name as the blog? Poor taste. But it gets down to one of my goals in life: I'd love to have a pencil and paper role-playing game with my kids. The boys like fun, and if there's a game even inferred at, I know they'll jump on board.
Here's the thing, though. They are working on a level so much higher than I am. Their imagination takes me back to the days when I drew spaceships, and a triangle meant an engine, a square meant a missile launcher, and every day I invented some illogical and absurd method of doing something that, in itself, was illogical and absurd.
For example, I remember a plan I made for a ship that traveled underwater, surrounded by a barrier of lasers that evaporated the water in such a way that the steam reflected the laser around the entirety of the ship. So, underneath a laser barrier, everyone stayed perfectly dry.
My theory on childhood and adulthood is this: When you grow up, you learn how to measure things.
On one side, this means you can learn how to build something, or cook something, or devise a plan that solves multiple problems. You learn how to compromise with others and you learn how to moderate yourself.
On the other side, it means you learn how to moderate your own feelings. Your imagination is still as powerful as before, but you give it bounds to give it meaning. You withhold your heart. In my mind, this is why God asks us to be like a child. To love without compromise. To be open to the expanse of infinity that He holds. Because if we try to know God in measured terms, we can't do it.
Whew! Well, that got a bit deeper than I meant it to. What I'm trying to say is, I refuse to restrict their imagination. If they decide that their group of travelling knights is going to hop on a rocket ship and save Mars from some sort of Evil Batman... that's what we'll do!
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