A Pink Flamingo was Dancing

A few weeks ago, I awoke around 7am and found my daughter Amelia (2 1/2 years old) sleeping on my legs. My wife and I were tired enough not to hear her as she crept into our room. When we asked Amelia why she came to sleep with Mom and Dad, she responded, “A Pink Flamingo”. She then proceeded to tell us all about the Pink Flamingo and the story was quite creative.

The story as told by Amelia begins as she wakes in the middle of the night. My best guess is the time is around 2am. So, little Amelia wakes up and hears a noise. The noise as she describes it can be best written out as “MMMHMMHM”. It’s a bit of a hum. The noise is coming from her closet. Then from out of her closet, appears the Pink Flamingo. The Pink Flamingo walks to her bed and jumps to the end of it and according to Amelia it’s very nice. She looks on as the Pink Flamingo begins to dance.

Amelia demonstrates the dance that the Pink Flamingo performs. It’s sort of a Beyonce-esque, “Put a Ring on it” number. As the flamingo is dancing, it attempts to hold Amelia’s hand. She of course doesn’t like this and describes the situation as “strange” and “weird”. The flamingo continues it’s dance, then jumps off her bed and retreats to another bedroom. This is when Amelia decides to come to my room and sleep on my legs. She describes everything that took place as, “it was really weird dada”.

I love Amelia’s creativity. Like most children, she approaches art without fear. Her music is always atonal and her stories are elaborate worlds of fantasy. As adults we build up all these barriers of things, most of which come from what we would like other people to think about us. Our images of ourselves are always through other eyes. Amelia sees things through her own eyes. My sweet little girl, completely creative enough to come up with such a wonderful story, keen enough to know it’s incredibly weird and fearless enough to always be herself.

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