Basement Time

Basement time is an age-old tradition at our house. It started years ago with my now teenage boy. We'd play, create, and otherwise explore the wilderness of our unfinished basement-a place where memories are made and messes are welcome. And it’s still going strong with our five year-old girl.

I’m a bit older wiser, but the gist is about the same. 

Only, it’s not.

With a little boy, everything was tools and gadgets, taking things apart. I understood the mission and the chaos was clear. Now, with a girl, the chaos is, well it's pink. 

The old fort/writing nook under the stairs? Now a glittery pink castle, with flower arrangements and butterflies.

The boxy projection TV/video game area? Now it’s a stage complete with pink curtains, poofy dresses and a makeup room.

The sword collection? Tiaras.

The trainset? Doll house.

The obstacle course? A parade of princesses.

So what’s the same? Well, somehow, it's completely the same. 

We roam the basement, out to the backyard. We dig for treasure in the sandbox. We play doctor, zookeeper, park ranger, hotel, police, hide and seek, and just about whatever else she imagines she wants to do.

And yes, Bella is girly, but she still likes to get dirty. She's not always so glamorous. Or she is, only with dirt in her nails, sticks in her hair. She can be a barefoot sticky mess of glamour, I suppose.

Simon was more mechanical about things, inventing and seeing how something ticks. He built things. We’d play basketball or football. Bella is more pretend this or imagine that.

Bella likes to put on stage shows. And a stage show is only as good as its prep and planning, so when I'm told to have a seat, I sit. The curtain closes so that the star can go backstage to get herself ready, and I can't help myself thinking just how much basement time has changed. 

But has it really? It's still a place where the outside world seems to melt away. It still becomes a magical forest, or a jungle, a kingdom or even outer space. It's still all pretend, only now with more fairies and mermaids. 

When the curtain opens, and the star brightens with a smeary blue lipstick smile of a deranged clown, I applaud her efforts until I'm shushed as the show begins. 

We do get the occasional soccer game. And we do have the occasional obstacle course. I've learned to roll with the changes, the many breaks to accommodate the wardrobe changes. The other day she went through three dresses in an hour. But hey, that’s what the dresses are for, to wear, when playing in the dirt, jumping hurdles, climbing trees and pretending to be a tiger, while wearing lipstick. 

I'm just along for the ride.