My mother tells this story:
“The introverted thinker is three. I tell her to clean up her toys. She has a mat with cardboard houses and cars. I hear her in the other room, talking. First a low voice, then very high voices.
Low voice: “Stomp, stomp, stomp.”
High voices: “No, no, help, help! Run, run!” (small crashing sounds).
Low voice: “I am a giant, stomp, stomp.”
I peek in the room. The introverted thinker is kicking all the houses and cars over, being a giant. Then she cleans up the houses and the cars.”
And my mother laughs, and everyone who listens.
And do adults feel like giants to children sometimes? Giants in uniform who take their parents away? And can the child do anything? How helpless they may feel.
My son took this picture of his sister.