This post was written by Rebel from Rebel Without A Pause.
It has been republished here with her permission.
Remember the reason why we’re abandoning the shops this Christmas in favour of one large combination gift for the kids?
SO. MUCH. STUFF! We are drowning in it.
And it might just be me, but a lot of the ‘stuff’ does little to encourage their imagination. Even LEGO comes in boxes with plans these days – Cael completely freaked when I suggested he try inventing his own stuff with all of the bricks he has … “But it’s meant to be a Fire station!” he wailed. Sheesh.
My hope is that by investing in a cubby house we’ll be giving their creativity a little nudge.
The cool thing about the cubby we are buying is that you can customise them. They’re not limited to a particular shape or size, you can work with the folks at My Cubby to get the exact specifications you need.
And that is exactly what I was doing when Cael-the-creeper snuck up behind me …
“SICK! Is that a cubby house? Are we getting a cubby house?” he yells, causing me to jump out of my skin, and inviting the attention of his shadowing sister.
“Yayyyyyyyy! I want a cubby house. Can it be pink?” she squeals as she runs into the room.
“No way, I want mine multi-coloured, like that one,” Cael points over my shoulder and taps the screen.
“No, sorry guys, this is for mummy’s work.” I fib, furiously closing down tabs.
“Awwwwww, but I’ve always wanted a cubby house. Cooper has one,” moans the boy-child, “You can climb right up on the top and pretend it’s a boat, and all of the grass is poisonous ocean and if you touch it you either die or get eaten by the Loch Ness Monster.”
“The Loch Ness Monster doesn’t live in the ocean, Cael,” imparts Ivy-the-wise, “He lives in the sky.” (I retract former statement regarding wisdom)
“No he doesn’t,” snaps Cael, “He lives in the lochs of Scotland – but you could always pretend the boat is in Scotland. Oh yeah, our house could be Uncle Harry’s pub and the cubby house could be a boat, and then if you want to get to the pub for lunch you have to get across the loch without the monster eating you. You can be the monster, Ivy.”
“No way!” she cries, “The cubby house can be a hostabul, and I can be a doctor and we can get all of the toys to be sick and I can fix them. You can be a doctor or a nurse, whatever you want.”
“Hang on, hang on, hang on … what about if the cubby house is a school, and I can be the principal and you can be the doctor that works there?” he suggests as they walk out of the room squabbling about just how they are going to use the cubby house they are not meant to know they are getting. Damn it.
Look, we’re still a way out from Christmas, hopefully they haven’t put two and two together, but if they have I don’t really mind because … IMAGINATION! It’s already working. If this is the kind of stuff that the very idea of a cubby house inspires, I can not wait to see what the real deal does!
Do your kids have a cubby house? How do they use it?
Winter is here, and that means one thing: a three-month snot fest.I’m sorry to be gross, but it’s true. Every school drop-off and pick-up is fraught with danger. Tiny noses ooze everywhere. Hundreds of tiny hands that have wiped said tiny oozing noses come perilously close to touching me and
we promise we won't hassle you!