As a little girl (and only child girl) I used to force my dad to sit and have tea parties with me. I would set the table with little cups and plates, and at the miniature table and chairs, my big, grown-up dad would have to sit (pinkies up) and play pretend tea party with me. Of course, there was no “real tea” or “real crumpets”, but he was content to play along because he knew it brought joy to my heart.
We would have pretend conversation (which to me at the time was oh so real), and if I was feeling particularly creative, I would start fixing my dad’s hair with bows and clips (I mean because honestly, he had to look the part.)
I’m sure this scene is not unfamiliar to a lot of little girls with their dads or mom’s. But not until I was much older, and in much different circumstances did I understand that this scene is also not unfamiliar to the way my heavenly Father decides to condescend to me as His child.