Children’s Magic

Today I am reminded of kid-magic. 

And ecosystems.

We’ve were talking a lot about ecosystems over the weekend. About the flow in our social and business ecosystems. I really love smart conversations about these matters.

My neighbour and Senior Leadership Member of Team ‘SF thrives’ came round with her two kids aged five and two this afternoon. I think it is the first time as a cognizant child the youngest came and she was SHOCKED! Aunty Sarah has a house? THIS is Aunty Sarah’s house?

This is NOT Aunty Sarah’s house.

A bold statement. What do they think?

The older child, five, remarked that it had changed and remembered where to get the toys from (under the sofa).

And by toys I mean toy.
Our house is absolutely NOT child-friendly. Nothing is child friendly. We have one aforementioned toy (very popular as it happens) The art is not child-friendly and indeed may not even be adult friendly to some folk of the more delicate constitution.

But I remember - Aunty’s houses are magical, mystical and mysterious places.

Five and two want to look around - go upstairs ‘Why does Aunty Sarah have STAIRS?’ (to get upstairs). They go, have a look round, come back down - then want to go up again. And then again.

Five sees my easel. Is this for your painting? Are you an artist? I blush a little and say not really. They have no idea what I do - no idea besides me being this constant adult in their lives. I wonder if they think I live in their house or nearby. They don’t care what my job is - I mean were I a teacher or a doctor or a firefighter, they may be able to relate but I love how they are trying to make sense of me and everything. And that they have absolutely no clue about me. They simply don’t care.

I let them ride on my legs and ask them not to put the massager near their bum entrance for hygiene but they can use it elsewhere.

They tape up the floor and play with blocks that I bought for myself to give my brain an offline activity.

I am reminded of how my other friend’s kid used to walk past the four-star monthly rental place in Tokyo Midtown - Oakwood Premier, and tell her little brother

‘That’s Aunty Sarah’s house!’

It makes me laugh just thinking about that and the way that little minds work.

She thought I was hosting a hundred and fifty women in my living room - swapping clothes and drinking wine - served, I assume by my staff. 

Oh her eyes - I shall see myself through those eyes. A woman who lives in a twenty story four-star residence - that is HERS, with multiple staff and whose living room is the size of a luxurious football pitch! Such fun!

You see I used to run the Tokyo Style Swap clothing exchange there and she used to come with her Mum every year from when she was born to when she was four! They lived nearby so every time they went past - she would declare it ‘Aunty Sarah’s house’! It makes perfect sense that she would come to this wild conclusion - it is logical after all - she saw me four times a year hosting people there. Oh untainted logic. Innocent conclusions.

I remember my Grandma’s house, how I would steal myself up to her bedroom to marvel at her pink bedspread, her dressing table with ancient perfume and jewellery. I’d stare at her teasmade and run my hands over the fur coats in the deep wooden wardrobe. I can actually bring the smell to my senses now as we speak; and the sensations. It was a comforting yet scary place; all dark, cold corridors and high, soft beds.

I kind of want the kids to have that kind of experience here. They can do what they like if they ask.

Aunty’s house. 

On the way out, Five spots a big crystal that I have at my doorway, bought from a place of geological significance in West Japan. He picks it up wide-eyed.

‘Can I have this?’ 

Yes - I say without hesitation. I think he is pleasantly surprised. A little shocked. I run upstairs to find a tiny bit of amethyst, that was embedded in some soap that I bought from a spiritual soap-maker, for Two. Two is luckily delighted because she currently loves the colour purple and five is thrilled that he has the bigger crystal. Two also has a roll of tape from Aunty Sarah’s house, and a giant plastic hammer that she tends to carry around.

I have decluttered two pieces of crystal - I shall declare the New Year clean a triumphant success.

I may be spiritually vulnerable now I have decluttered two crystals, but I found a bag of frankincense resin when the kids were going through the drawers, so I plan to make up a ceremony around which to live out a witching fantasy, involving a tin can and chunks of said incense. I will make it up. It will be a fire hazard.

When it was time to leave, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

‘I want to stay at Aunty Sarah’s house!’

‘I don’t want to go!’

‘NOOOOOOOO…’

And so, the magical mundane continues, with the kids constantly delivering wonderful insights into how utterly unimportant I am, that they don’t care one bit about anything about me really. Not my job. Or where I live. Only that I’m there; present and that they fantasise that I live in a castle-like building in Tokyo, or that I’m an artist - or where do I even LIVE and WHY DO I HAVE STAIRS?

Five and Two being pure magic with Mingo