Just What the Doctor Ordered

I returned from a 3-day business trip yesterday evening and my wife hadn't gotten home from work yet. The nanny went on her way and I asked the girls what they wanted to do. Suddenly they disappeared and I followed them up to our office, where I found my youngest sitting at the desk, scribbling on a paper and pulling the keyboard tray out, punching on the kayboard, then sliding it back in again. My oldest came in with a purse and necklace on, said she was there to see the doctor and my youngest starts giving her the drill:

"What's your name?"

"Mallory."
(I'm not sure who Mallory is or where they heard that, but she wrote it down anyway: "Malure")

"What's your phone number?" followed by some dictation and "typing"

"What's your address?" followed by some dictation and "typing"

"Yes, yes, here you are, I found you. Go sit over there and wait."

It was awesome. I didn't intervene at all: played fly on the wall and watched it all unravel. They were incredibly regimented and completely convinced of the reality of their pretending. It continued for 30 minutes.

So I wonder if sometimes "spending time with children" doesn't necessarily have to mean interacting with children. Because they knew I was there and seemed pleased to be "performing" for me. But as the causal, quiet-but present-observer, I learned an awful lot about my little girls.