As I watch my baby turn into a little boy, I am constantly amused and horrified at his imagination. He's a kid, an "all-boy" at its finest. He likes dinosaurs, cars, and letters. And when I say he likes letters, I mean the A-B-C type of letters. Right now, everything in life with him is broken down into letters. Aside from the usual stable of imaginary friends, he has begun to add 26 more.
Our day often involves discussion of letters, what they say, what they do (which starts with the letter sound), and what color they are. For example, quite often, there is a blue K kicking its way through the house. Or, as today, there was a red J jumping down the hallway. This can be complete with body twisting to make the shape of the letter. Though some of the shape making doesn't make sense, as in the letter C requiring you to wrap your arms about yourself.
His writing is full of letters too, and not necessarily in any order, but I am gathering sheet after sheet after sheet of random letter scribblings. It's amusing, but aren't most kids drawing pictures? If I ask him to draw a cat, he'll tell me no. He'd rather write the word cat. On the bright side, his writing is improving, but I am worried about other aspects of his creativity.
Perhaps this all stems from being right handed. Letters are logical and ordered, like math, and logic and order are domains of the left side of the brain. The right side, which controls left handedness is spatial and artistic. It's why I can't do math or taxes and why I love the diagramming of sentences. I don't worry too m uch about his imagination. The child comes up with all sorts of stories and involves so many things in them, I find it hard to keep them straight. He makes up songs and we have a very good time together playing in the realms of his world... I'm afraid we've broken him though. He's so full of life and so vivacious that sending him into the real world would crush him, I'm afraid. I love who he is, but the rest of the world won't understand him and that terrifies me.