Those old toys....

Jed went on a school trip today that wasn't getting back until 5.30pm, and so we picked Imogen up and instead of going home we headed to some friends who live nearer the school than us.  We stayed for a while until Jed arrived back.  They had their two year old grand daughter with them for the afternoon and in the living room, as you would expect, there was an array of different toys that she had obviously been flitting between.  By the time I had entered the room Imogen was sat in the midst of the toys and had focussed in on the old Fisher Price garage.  I'm sure some of you remember it; the one with the car lift where you turn the little handle and the lift 'pings' as it goes past the floors.  Then at the top it releases the car and it rolls back down the curved ramp to the bottom.  It's a great toy, one I remember playing with as a child - I think our next door neighbours had it!

The next half hour held a number of realisations for me.  While the two year old busied herself around Imogen, playing with animals and saucepans and cars, Imogen remained solely focussed on the garage, turning the handle, lining up cars.  The nine year old playing alone, the two year old every now and then saying 'Mimi?' and holding out a car to Imogen.  When I spoke to Imogen she emerged for a moment and would interact a little, but in the main the child who should have been interacting was in her own world and the one who in child development terms would have been quite within her rights to play totally alone alongside another was the one reaching out, trying to interact.  I was sad.
Another thing I realised was that I do the whole, coming home from school thing wrong.  Imogen loved sitting on the floor playing with toddler toys.  Normally we come in the door and I give her a drink and ask her to get her reading book out, wanting to get it out of the way.  Watching Immi this evening I think what I need to do is swallow any pride I have and go back to those toddler toys, put something out for her to play with and allow her to regress a little each afternoon without the TV and without normal 9 year old pressure.  She needs time to be.  I need to allow her to be.