When I Was a Mom

Everyday, often several times a day, Hazel throws her imagination, emerging complex verb structures, and powers of empathy into the big pot that is her brain, stirs, and comes out with a "When I was..." statement.

"When I was a Mom, I change my baby's diapers because that's what Moms do with their babies."

"When I was a sandbox, I ate sand, do I? Because sand is my food!"

I know the proper form is actually "if I was..." or if you're really a stickler, "if I were..." but I make no effort whatsoever to correct her. I don't know if that's actually what she means or if the line between reality and make-believe is still fuzzy enough that she thinks she could be, or has been, these things. Either way, I enjoy her comments immensely.

"When I was ice cream, people eat me. Because I'm yummy in their stomachs and their stomachs like me."

But mostly it's a lot of, "When I was a Mom."

"When I was a Mom, I cook at the stove and touch hot things, do I?" (The "do I?" is my favorite part.)

"When I was a Mom, I can drive our car and I take you to the grocery store."

Sometimes it's, "When I was your Mom..." Then I explain to her that she can't be my mom because Nana is my mom. And I'm her mom. And when she's a mom she'll have a new kid we haven't met yet. I know it's complicated but I tell her anyway. Last time we went through it she considered for a minute and said, "Yeah, and when Nana was little I was her mom."

I just smiled and said, "Yep!" Plenty of time for boring truth later.