That doorway doesn’t remain open to them forever.īut books like Chirri and Chirra remind those of us who have crossed that threshold what it’s like on the other side, even as they give younger readers fuel for their imagination. And I’ve watched with mixed feelings as my older girls have begun to grow out of this. They are always seeing something just beyond what I can see, something I’ve forgotten-since my own days as a little girl-how to see. Later that day, my eight-year-old converted her car seat into a helicopter cockpit, and I could hear her back there calling “Turn left! Turn left!” and pulling the arm rest up like a lever as she leaned hard into the turn. The other day my five-year-old turned a pilfered paper bag into robot helmet and walked around the house, beep-booping pleasantly and intoning to herself, “I – am – a – ro – bot.” When you live with little girls (and, I presume, little boys-though I wouldn’t know and could not verify this fact), the veil between the real and imagined world is thin.
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