I’m not creative enough.
My almost-four-year-old daughter has made this apparent. She hasn’t told me straight up, but I just figured it out. Lately, she has been fascinated by the idea of storytelling which consistently leads to the same question.
“Please, you tell me a story?”
I always thought of myself as creative, and I frequently list writing as a hobby when prompted, but when she puts me on the spot, I’m lucky to crap out an old fairy tale with a few details changed.
What happened? I used to make up all kinds of crazy stuff. Oh right, I got older and more boring. My life is about routines now, and routines don’t exactly foster creativity. Interestingly, the same toddler who keeps asking for creativity is the reason for most of the new routines we’ve added in the last five years.
Either she needs to be more realistic with her expectations, or I should be doing more to exercise my creative muscles. I’m going to focus on the latter.
Setting aside time to be creative. Now that sounds like a great routine.
My latest go-to is picking a classic and re-gendering the characters to give female characters the best parts. Jill and the Beanstalk wasn’t bad, and my sisterly version of Three Little Pigs was a hit. ↩