At least mine were human, Agatha.

I recently remembered this game I used to play when I was a kid and couldn’t fall asleep.  I would lay in the middle of my bed and make up this family for myself – all my own children – and take as long as possible thinking up all their names and ages.  There was always at least one set of twins.  There was no father involved, I don’t think that even occurred to me.  Then I would imagine the circumstances leading to our poverty, and why my 10 children of varying names and ages, and I, all had to share a bed.  I would assign them places around me.  Usually by the time I got to this point I was tired from all the cogitating, and would fall asleep.

When I told Drew about this, he said, “You used to daydream about being a single mother of 10?” which really put it into perspective.

But kids play weird games when they’re by themselves, and I offer this proof, from Agatha Christie: An Autobiography, published in 1977:

From as early as I can remember, I had various companions of my own choosing.  The first lot, whom I cannot remember except as a name, were “The Kittens.”  I don’t know now who “The Kittens” were, and whether I was myself a Kitten, but I do remember their names: Clover, Blackie, and three others.  Their mother’s name was Mrs Benson.
          Mrs Benson was terribly poor, and it was all very sad.  Captain Benson, their father, had been a Sea Captain and had gone down at sea, which was why they had been left in such penury.  That more or less ended the Saga of the Kittens except that there existed vaguely in my mind a glorious finale to come of Captain Benson not being dead and returning one day with vast wealth just when things had become quite desperate in the Kittens’ home.
          From the Kittens I passed on to Mrs Green.  Mrs Green had a hundred children, of which the important ones were Poodle, Squirrel and Tree.  Those three accompanied me on all my exploits in the garden.  They were not quite children and not quite dogs, but indeterminate creatures between the two.

This only makes me love her more.

Speaking of kids and their trains of thought, here’s an excerpt or two from Drew’s third-grade in-class journal.  These are all responses to writing assignments.

And my personal favorite:

This is turning into Blast from the Past week.