Renting a Dinosaur

My son has a very vivid imagination. This is something that I should be thankful
for but his constant, elaborate scenarios can get exhausting. For example, on Mondays, Wednesdays and
Fridays, we leave the house at 7:40 am to take my son to school. On these days, the pretending begins before
I even back out of the driveway. It
goes something like this:

Son: “Mommy, do
you want to pretend something.”

Me: “Why don’t we
listen to some music.”

Son: “I don’t want
to listen to music. I want you to play
with me.”

Me: “OK. What do you want to play?”

Son: “I’ll be the
museum man and you and Sissy are the people that come to the
       museum. Now you say, ‘Museum man, is the museum open
yet?’

Me: “Museum man,
is the museum open yet?”

Son:  In a
distorted voice that is meant to sound museum man-ish, “Yes. Come on in.
        What kind
of dinosaur would you like to rent?”

Me: “I don’t need
to rent a dinosaur. I’ll just look at
them.”

Son: “But this is
a dinosaur-renting place.”

He always feeds me my dialogue. This makes the entire discourse extra fun. I usually just go along with whatever he
says but sometimes I create my own dialogue. This rarely goes over well. I
usually end up arguing with him for a few minutes and then giving up and
saying, “I wish my friend would come” or whatever lame phrase he feeds to me.  My husband and I have started calling him, “the
Dictator.” We have friends who call
their son (who has the same affliction), “the Mayor.” I guess the latter is a little more kind but, alas, it’s already
taken.

Whenever we are at home and my son asks me to play with him,
I am either too busy and rattle off an excuse or I make other suggestions. “Why don’t we play outside” “Do you want to play a game instead?” “How about we listen to some music and
dance?” He rarely agrees to my
suggestions. “Playing pretend” is, by
far, his favorite activity. He becomes
full of himself and animated on the rare occasions that I begrudgingly agree to
play with him.

Why is it so difficult for me to muster up any enthusiasm
for pretend play with my son? I know,
all too well, how quickly time passes. I realize that the day will soon come when he has no interest in playing
with me at all and I will look upon these play sessions with longing and
nostalgia. So, why can’t I just forget
about all of the other things I need to do and throw myself into the
dialogue?  Renting a dinosaur, after all, is a serious commitment.  I should not take that choice lightly.