Tonight, my kids decided we should get on our old play couch and pretend that it could fly. My four-year-old even put a plastic drumstick between the cushions for some sort of starting lever, and a little ball on an ice cream cone for a joystick-type steering wheel. After the flying couch “landed,” I asked where we were. My son responded matter-of-factly, “the beach." He called the carpet sand, laid out blankets, and even hefted in imaginary palm trees. He made sure that my two-year-old daughter and I lay down beside him. Then he said, “Man, it’s hot. I think we need some drinks—with ice.” I love their imaginations.