Fantasy and reality

About a week ago, Maia had to do an "about me" assignment. It was structured as a newsheet. The lead story was supposed to be about something she had done that was memorable.

For that, she invented a birthday party at a water park she's never been to.

As we were driving home from the Bark Park today, I told her that I wanted to ask her something.

"When you have to do a story about yourself, why do you always make up stuff?"

She started to cry. "You're mad at me," she said.

"No, I'm not mad at you, Sweetie. I'm not mad at you. I was just interested in why. You don't have to tell me."

"No," she said, "I'll tell you. When I think my own thoughts, they don't have enough detail. So I make up stuff."

"Okay," I said. "I understand."

I'm not sure what it means.

John, Thursday, October 20, 2011.