Once, in a cozy living room filled with the golden glow of the afternoon sun, a little boy named Lorenzo lay on his tummy. The carpet was soft and warm against his elbows, and all around him lay a colorful explosion of crayons. There were reds, blues, greens, and yellows scattered like confetti. Lorenzo wiggled his toes inside his socks, feeling a bubble of giggles rising in his chest. He was in a wiggly, jiggly mood, and he felt like playing a very special game.

Lorenzo picked up a bright green crayon and pressed it firmly onto the giant sheet of paper spread out before him. *Scritch, scratch, zoom!* He drew a long, curving line that looked like a river. He wanted to see just how far his imagination could travel, and more importantly, he wanted to see if his Mama could keep up.

"Mama," Lorenzo chirped, his voice full of playful mischief. "I am playing a game called What If."

Mama looked up from the sofa where she was folding laundry. She smiled that warm, crinkly-eyed smile that made Lorenzo feel safe. "Oh? That sounds like a wonderful game," she said, her voice sounding like a storyteller ready to begin a tale. "How do we play?"

Lorenzo sat up and held up his drawing. "It starts like this," he announced. "What if I use my magic green crayon and turn into a slippery fish? If I turn into a fish, I will jump into this river and swim away so fast that you can't see me! *Splosh!* I would wiggle my tail and hide under the cool, mossy rocks where the water is dark and quiet."

Mama tapped her chin, pretending to think very hard about this problem. She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling.