jerry bombenak

My kids' imaginary friends . . . First was Osmo's imaginary boss. He was not quite 4 when he started his imaginary job. We're not quite sure what his job was, but he came home from "work" everyday with all kinds of stories about the office antics that went on that day. And endless stories about Jerry Bombenak, his boss. There were even evenings spent in a panic because he hadn't finished a project that Jerry had asked him to complete. I figured that an opportunity like this was too good to pass on - maybe not stellar parenting on my part - but I would occasionally remind him, when he was throwing a fit, that Jerry Bombenak wouldn't like his behavior. One evening, we drove around for a long time, because Osmo was certain that he had a business dinner at his boss's house. He knew that he'd recognize the house if we just drove down the right street. I can't even remember how we got out of that one.

Then there was Osmo's imaginary house boat. He was always going out on his house boat when he needed some time away. Again, not exactly stellar parenting, but one particularly rough day, I had to take away the privilege of visiting his house boat for an afternoon. What can I say? It worked . . . whatever the offensive behavior was, it stopped promptly.

Zara didn't have any imaginary friends, per se, but she was great at role playing. She would often decide we were all somebody else, and she would flawlessly stay in character 24-7. Once, she decided she was her friend Isaac and I was his mom, Jody. At just 2 years old, she woke up in the middle of the night, calling out for Jody and got mad at me for not calling her Isaac.

And now Pip . . . he doesn't have an imaginary human friend, but his sister has an imaginary bull dog. It's her dog, but his imagination. Does that make sense? I don't know why he doesn't have his own imaginary dog - no, he has her imaginary dog. He gets mad if Osmo plays the piano while the imaginary dog is sleeping. He came in from the backyard in tears last week because he couldn't find Zara's imaginary bull dog, anywhere. I guess he doesn't need an imaginary dog of his own, because he has his own real dog, Pepper. Nevermind that Pepper lives at Grandma and Papa's house 500 miles away. As long as he gets to chat with Pepper on the phone now and then, he's happy.

As they've grown, imaginary bosses and house boats have been replaced with imaginary empires, complete with an invented language, history, allies and enemies, monetary system . . .

And imaginary numbers.

gifted phraseology

something that has to be said . . . I wish whoever coined the phrase 'talented and gifted' and applied it to the people who score above the 97th percentile in standardized tests, would have chosen a more neutral word. In the broad sense of the words, all children are talented and gifted. All children have abilities and potential. So when I talk about my gifted kids, in the clinical sense of the word, it sounds like I am bragging or being an elitist. I am not. In the technical, diagnostic sense of the word, my children are gifted. This is not to say that I think they are better than other children or have more potential for success in this world, it just means that their brains work in a way that is different than most people's brains.

Do I think they are fabulous individuals? Yes. Do I sometimes brag about them? Yes. Do I occasionally want to shout to the world how amazing they are? Yes. Do I sometimes wish we could just blend in and do things the way other people do? Yes (but only once in a great while!)

So when I say my kids are gifted, I'm simply saying that they have very absorbent minds and learn things at an accelerated rate. Their true gifts, in my mind, lie in how they use their talents. And those are the gifts that need need to be nourished and practiced.