Spy Wizard

Thomas has a problem. He can’t chose on which career to take up. Spy or wizard (or lifeguard or tri-athlete) What I really enjoy about this is he is nine (and the size of a 12 year old) but he is still fully engaged in imaginative play involving him and sometimes-small toys…

The thing is spies have gadgets…

He has been into all things spy for sometime now. He especially enjoys stories about kids who become spies and ‘save the day.’ He has been reading a series of books about a boy called Z@c Power who has joined a spy agency. In the books Zac’s code name is ‘Agent Rock Star’ and the boss is ‘Agent Big Boss’. Z@c’s brother makes the gadgets (a bit like Q in the Bond movies). The most recent series of the books (mega missions!!!) came with Z@c Power gadgets attached to carabinas – a small compass, torch and magnifying glass. Last weekend Thomas and his friend who was over to play packed up these and other spy gadgets and went ‘spying’ writing notes about what they saw and heard. They had a great time.

Anyway, clearly Thomas has been talking all things spy with his Dad too because last night at the dinner table he suddenly turned to me and said ‘hey Mum did you know that my Dad’s dad used to be the boss of the spies?

I said I did know that and that I thought that perhaps his Dad and I had been to his office once. He hammered me with questions ‘were there gadgets in his office?’ ‘how did he become the big boss?’ ’did you see any spies?’ ‘was there a room to make gadgets?’ ‘did he have a code name?’ ‘did he have guards like Mr How@rd?

My lack of knowledge did not impress him all that much (particularly my comment about working hard to become the big boss of something). But in the end he decided that his grandfather would have his gadgets hidden from (the likes of) us anyway, probably in an underground room.

Then again wizards have magic…

When he is not being a spy he is being a wizard. A couple of weeks ago when we were walking his dog he went and sat in a tree in the park (while I actually walked the dog) and he pulled out all of his ‘wizard stuff’ from his ever present small yellow and blue bag which he carries everywhere these days with whatever is important to him of the moment. After he had sat in his tree and played for awhile he and I walked around to the shops to pick up a few items. The conversation went like this “Mum you don’t believe in wizards do you?” “Sure I do honey” "No mum you don’t but that is okay because people who can’t be wizards just don’t know about it. Do you think you would be happy if I were a wizard when I grow up?”