The Power of What If

What if clouds were made of cotton candy? What if bicycles could carry us to the moon?

These playful questions aren’t just whimsical—they’re portals. Portals into the kind of thinking children do naturally: expansive, curious, and unbound by what is and open to what could be. When children leap beyond the boundaries of the everyday world, they reveal how young minds navigate between reality and possibility. They remind us that the world is endlessly malleable, full of potential for transformation.

Imagination isn’t confined to playtime or childhood. It’s a lifelong capacity—often buried beneath schedules and responsibilities, but never gone. Children remind us how to access it, not just through their questions, but through the way they live in possibility. Imagination weaves itself through the fabric of daily life, transforming ordinary moments into opportunities for exploration and wonder.

During car rides, children might notice how telephone poles flash by like fence posts. Adults might be tempted to tune out. But what if we tuned in? What if we asked, “What do you think the sky is trying to tell us today?” In the kitchen, measuring cups become vehicles for discussing size relationships, while mixing ingredients sparks questions about transformation and change. At bedtime, the transition from day to night naturally invites thoughts about dreams, sleep, and the mysterious processes that happen while we rest. Even folding laundry can become a moment of imaginative connection—matching socks, sorting colors, or wondering what stories our clothes might tell about the lives they’ve lived.

Children who regularly engage their imagination develop a particular way of approaching problems and relationships. They become comfortable with uncertainty, more willing to consider multiple perspectives, and more flexible in their thinking. They learn that there’s rarely just one way to see a situation or solve a problem. This mental flexibility serves them well beyond childhood. The ability to envision scenarios that don’t yet exist—to consider “what if” as a serious question rather than idle fantasy—becomes the foundation for innovation in any field.

Sometimes the most profound conversations emerge from the simplest questions. “What do you think that building is thinking about?” might lead to discussions about permanence, purpose, or the passage of time. “If you could redesign this playground, what would you change?” can reveal values, creativity, and problem-solving approaches. These aren’t questions with right or wrong answers. They’re invitations to explore ideas together, to discover what captures a child’s attention and curiosity—and perhaps what still stirs our own.

Children naturally navigate between imaginative thinking and practical understanding. They can fully engage with the idea that their stuffed animal has feelings while simultaneously understanding that it doesn’t need actual food. This ability to hold multiple ways of thinking simultaneously is actually quite sophisticated. Rather than viewing imagination and reality as competing forces, children often treat them as complementary ways of understanding the world. Their imaginative explorations help them make sense of real-world concepts and relationships.

Imagination flourishes in environments where questions are welcomed, where there’s time for unstructured thinking, and where unusual ideas are met with curiosity rather than immediate correction. This doesn’t require special materials or planned activities—it requires attention and openness to the unexpected directions conversations might take. The most imaginative moments often emerge from boredom, from the spaces between scheduled activities when minds are free to wander. These unstructured times become laboratories for creative thinking—for children and adults alike.

In our book We Get to Imagine, Otis ventures beyond his familiar world, using curiosity and openness as his guides to discover new possibilities. He demonstrates that imagination isn’t about escaping reality—it’s about expanding our sense of what reality might contain. The stories children create, the questions they ask, and the worlds they build through imagination aren’t just entertainment. They’re expressions of how young minds naturally work to understand, process, and envision possibilities in the world around them.

Something transformative happens when adults genuinely engage with children's imaginative ideas. The usual roles dissolve. We become co-creators, not instructors. And in that shared space, we remember what it feels like to be curious without an agenda. These shared, imaginative experiences often become the stories families tell about themselves years later—the saga of the family cat’s secret identity, the elaborate world-building around a cardboard box fort. These become not only a part of family stories, but unique connections co-created by those who care for each other the most. They build bonds that last. They build legacy.

When we pay attention to these imaginative moments, we gain insights into how children think, what captures their interest, and how they’re making sense of their experiences. We also discover opportunities for connection that go far deeper than our usual daily conversations.

What if we approached children's imaginative thinking not as something to manage, but as something to mirror? What if their questions helped us reconnect with our own—those we’ve tucked away in the name of adulthood? Imagination isn’t just playful—it’s revealing. It shows us not only the things that we long for but what we still hope might be possible.

So before you return to your to-do list, pause. Ask yourself: What if I let wonder lead, just for a moment? What if I gave myself permission to imagine without purpose, to play without productivity, to listen for the questions my inner child still longs to ask?

Because imagination isn’t something we outgrow—it’s something we get to reclaim. It’s how we remember possibility. How we soften into connection. How we begin to see the world not just as it is, but as it could be.

You don’t need a cardboard box or a costume to begin. Just a question. Just a moment. Just the willingness to wonder.

We get to imagine. And when we do, we get to become more fully ourselves.