Week 43: Custom V-8 Vega

This week's blog, with its featured surreal, album cover photo design, is dedicated to imagination (with shoutouts to 4th of July fireworks, the 1970s and vinyl record albums).

Tonight I had a marathon imagination session with preschooler Racer A and 2-yr-old Baby G. As such sessions generally go, this one was unplanned.

As I was seated on the couch with my feet stretched out, Baby G climbed onto the ottoman, and looking down at my outstreched legs, asked, "How do I get down there?" (Translated from Baby G-eze -- original form more like, "Hauw I get dow-wun dair?")

His tone told me he wasn't looking for an actual answer, so I said, "Take the elevator."

"Oh!" he said, nodding, obviously satisfied with the answer. He climbed down, contained by each of my outstretched legs, and asked, "Hauwa I get up dair?"

"Push the button," I answered.

Baby G pushed an imaginary button which caused an elevator-going-up noise ending in my vocal interpretation of an elevator stopping and climbed out onto the ottoman. And repeated the process, complete with, "Hauw I get dow-wun dair?"

This went on for about four rounds before attracting Racer A (kids love elevators, after all).

"Can I ride the elevator?" he asked.

"Sure," I answered.

"Hey, Elevator, can you talk?"

My answer would steer the unfolding story. "Yes, I can," answered Elevator.

"Oh good. Can I go up?"

Racer A squeezed into the elevator, where Baby G was already standing. He pushed a button in the air, after which Baby G pushed another button. The elevator made its elevator noises.

The game expanded, each ride prefaced by a new question to Elevator from Racer A, such as Hey Elevator, do you have a family? (answer, Yes), and Hey Elevator, do you have any friends? (answer, Yes, Escalator).

Baby G now was also on a first name basis with the elevator, but generally kept to saying, "Ella baitor? Go do-wun?", obviously more concerned with the business of travel at hand and less about the Elevator's genealogy.

After a variety of discussions about escalators and elevators (for some reason, Elevator talked with a deeper voice than my own and Escalator talked with a higher voice) and after establishing Elevator had been made at the Otis factory by Bill and Cindy, Racer A asked what floors were the best.

As it turned out, there was a party on Floor 7 with pizza, but after stopping by, Racer A wanted something more exciting, so Elevator mentioned the big party on 11.

"With dancing?"

"With lots of dancing," answered Elevator.

"And good music?"

"Of course. And you get to pick your own." (Which meant more buttons to push.)

Both of the kids wanted a party, so they hit the massive dancefest on 11, which was super fun, but, as fate would have it, lacking in cake. Luckily, Floor 4 had a bakery, and, even more luckily, had a giant rainbow cake with sprinkles in stock. (Subsequent visits to the bakery saw Racer A purchase vanilla mint cookies and blueberry and cantelope* pies.)

The party was a huge success, and while this account has long since abandoned an attempt at brevity, I'll nonetheless omit the rest of the adventures with Elevator and instead leave it to your imagination.

I will, however, leave you with the dances, invented and named by Racer A, that were performed on the 11th Floor, first by Racer A, and quickly followed by Baby G.

• The Ice Cream Scooper
• The Stand Pit
• The Wave Arms
• The Guitar Ranch
• The Dandelion
• The Hammer Punch
• Big Tree
• The Twinkling Star

I have a feeling Elevator has now entered the imagination world of my kids as a recurring character.


But seriously, though.

You really should check out that party on 11.


*Earlier in the day on the car radio we heard the song "Time Bomb" by Rancid (Black coat, white shoes, black hat, Cadillac, yeah, the boy's a time bomb) and Adrian mistook Cadillac for cantelope.



Thanks to my mystery photographer and the inspiration, and even though I completely dropped my planned blog on 1970s vinyl, sometimes you just need to let loose and party.