Sometimes I get to watch my children's quiet, private play. I feel like a guest. I think it is an honor when the let me observe and continue to play and talk out loud their private thoughts. Scotty played horses this morning while I was once again sewing (working on Nathan and Emily's un-born baby's Christmas gifts). I had clipped off a few little pieces of the Christmas tree to be their food in the trough. They were talking about the food and eating. I paused in my work, to go watch his. He likes these quiet mornings when both big brothers are gone and he gets to play whatever he wants.
He later came into the kitchen, climbed up on his stool and announced, "The horses ate their food, now it is Scotty's turn!". We had popcorn and pears for a snack.
Other times I never see the play, just the treasures left behind - like shells on a beach. I try to think of what boy might have been playing with what I find, what they might have been saying and thinking. This is what I found today in the living room:
The baby donkey is kissing baby Jesus. All the sheep are nuzzled around the baby with the shepherd close behind. The king came to visit from another play-set, to be a visiting Wiseman I am guessing. My vote is Jacob. The kissing donkey gives it away. 
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