How To Have A Tea Party

My four year old daughter Ella knows how to have a tea party. I apparently, do not. She reminded me of that this morning over a small plastic cup of watered down English breakfast tea and make-believe banana cake.

"Here's your yummy cake, Abu...".

I'm currently playing Abu, btw. The mischievous but well-intentioned, pointy-shoe wearing monkey from Aladdin? Thank you, I'll be here all week, two shows on Sunday.

Well, in between sips I had wandered far-afield of reality.

I wasn't in Arabia, under the shade of a palm sipping tea with Princess Jasmine.

I was paying bills. Meeting deadlines. Hustling up work. Stressing how to make ends meet. My body was there. My mind was not. And as we all know from reading Carlos Castaneda, Walt Whitman or Cormac McCarthy--your mind is where all the good stuff is, your imagination.

And without imagination, you can't actually be two places at once.

Which Ella instantly knew when I reached out, accepted the slice of banana cake and kindly, but absent-mindedly said "Thanks for the banana cookie...".

A short pause followed.

She's a fun Princess, but she's firm around certain issues of protocol.

"Abu, I told you. It's banana cake. Why you said 'cookie'?".

So busted. Suddenly, I was feeling very present. And very naked. Even in pointy shoes and a make-believe tasselled Fez.

Because in the mind of a four year old, there is no make believe. You're either drinking tea and enjoying yummy banana cake, or you're not.

You don't pretend, don't fake it, don't play at it. And you certainly don't pay bills, stress over a future that's not here and mistake banana cake, for a cookie.

Tomorrow, I get a lesson in dress-up.

Better get my head right, I'd hate to lose this gig.