Who likes playing children's games??

'Hands up who wants to play mums and dads??'

'Not me, please not me', I think, trying to fade into the background. 'No thanks', I say.

'But we need a mum. Mikey's the cat and I'm the dog, and we need a mum'

'I think you should be two orphan animals who have lost their mummy and daddy and go on a big adventure'

'No, we need a mum'

'Sorry, I'm busy', (making dinner, folding the washing, having a cup of tea, searching on ebay)

'That's ok. You can be a mum who's doing stuff'

And the dog starts pulling the clean clothes off the table with his (her) teeth, growling noisily.

I hate mums and dads. Now I sound like my 4 year old. But really, I don't want to play imaginary games with my children.

I don't think I'm being mean. After all, I'll happily play a board game or cards, or do a jigsaw. I chase them, play rough and tumble, swing them on the swing and even get on the trampoline (although I cricked my neck somehow last time and decided perhaps I'm too old for jumping). I supply paints and play dough. I even make playdough animals and butterfly paintings on request. I happily dig holes at the beach, make boats in the sand for them to sail in, and build sandcastles by the dozen to be demolished in seconds. I play ball, I run and climb climbing frames, and enter tunnels at the play centre that no full sized adult should ever venture into. I build houses with lego and let Holly decide not to have a roof on, although really, I'd love to finish it properly. I fix the train tracks, and even play the drum in their band.

But, I don't want to play imaginary games.

I can provide water for the dog bowls (and towels to mop up), I can hand out Cheerios as dog biscuits and provide a lead pinned to the back of a jumper, but I don't actually want to join in. I don't complain when furniture is moved to make dog beds, quilts and pillows are piled on the floor to make cat homes and balls are chased round the house.

But I do not want to be the mum, or the vet, or the pet shop owner.

I'm not quite sure why. I think it's because there's so many other things on my mind; real things, things that I should be doing, or want to think about or plan for. When I'm bouncing on the trampoline or digging in the sand, I'm actually doing something fun and I can either enjoy the moment or let my mind wander. As an adult, I have lost my imagination and it's hard work getting it back. I used to have one, a pretty good one, as a kid, but somewhere along the line it's got lost in reality, been squashed and taken over by real life.

It's a shame really. Perhaps I should practice some imaginary games and open up a whole new world of possibilities.

Yesterday, we reached a compromise. We found a game I will join in. We played schools. This involved two children riding their bikes to school (at the kitchen benchtop) where the teacher (me) set them some tasks to do. We got out the pens and paper and some number and word games that I have to persuade them to do normally. I supervised whilst emptying the dishwasher, provided gold stars and rang the bell at home time, when they got on their bikes and road off home (Holly's room) to bed, only to get up again and repeat the day.

It's a win win (I think). I get them to do a few activities they might not otherwise want to, and feel good because I'm providing my children with educational experiences. And I can do a couple of chores, and not really have to imagine very much at all. And they get to play with mummy.