There will be a photobooth at the conference this weekend. I learned about them from my son and his wife who have the gig down to a science. Ipads, costumes, printers, lights, big frame, wigs, funny glasses all fit into their car to arrive at an event like a party in a box. Then all you do is loop arms and smile. The camera does the rest.

It can be fun to pretend. Change your hair, don a big nose, grab a mustache. Forget about the mortgage, and the leaky faucet. Just play. 

I get to do that twice a week with two year olds. They are naturals at imagination. There is a pair of girls in the preschool whose verbal skills are shall we say, advanced, and a couple of boys for whom life is more about doing than talking. The other day the ladies swept them up in a drama about the baby doll, and the stroller, involving copious capes and magic wands. The lads were under their spell and played along. Who wouldn't follow a director with curly red hair and another who speaks in twelve word sentences?

Sometimes my life involves pretending. Pretending that I can clean this house in time for the twins' birthday party on Sunday, feigning that I am content with a car that is older than five of my children, fantasizing that some of my dreams are worth believing in.