Since my babies were small, holding a space for them to play
freely and creatively has been one of my greatest parenting passions. Letting
them teach me how to play, has also been a part of this.
The notion of ‘free play’ in and between my children is
something that is once again, increasingly on my mind, but in a different way
to when they were small. As my son grows older – at 9 years old – I wonder, how
much longer will his natural instinct to play last? His days are becoming ever-more
structured, and his consciousness, ever more adult-like, rational,
thinking-based. The gap between the two children also seems to grow and shrink
again at random, unpredictable intervals; a lot of the time these days, they
can’t seem to find a common theme for their play, and I grieve for the younger
years of seeing their imaginations on fire and the vastness and unexpectedness
of their creative capers.
It’s a delicate thing.
But also deep and instinctive and the strongest most
archetypal drive of childhood, I think.
Giving the instruction to “go and play” seems only to incite
yet more complaints of “I’m bored” or “I don’t know what to do”. Equally,
setting up an endless stream of structured things for them to do, I don’t
believe, is the answer either. Whilst my daughter and I do engage with plenty
of structured craft projects together, the real gold, is when it all comes from
her, herself.
Play is the place where children can use their own
initiative entirely, take risks that as adults we have forgotten to take,
explore all the hidden drives just beneath the surface – like who is the
natural leader, who is the one who solves disputes… there is a directness, an
immediacy about play, that accesses the real world of a child’s life that no
adult-led activity can stimulate in the same way.
So how do I help my children find a way into this elusive
place of direct contact with their own imaginations?
Often, it’s a case of doing nothing. Boredom will lead the
way. Boredom will create the drive to just come up with something, invent
something, enter into spontaneous play.
But these days, even creating the space for simple boredom,
can feel like another thing to add to the to-do list: no screens, no places we
need to be, crossing other things OFF
of the list so that there is less to-do… And then, when we do fall into an occasional
afternoon of nothing to do, I am often left feeling vaguely guilty about not
being out there in the world, showing my children things, giving them
‘opportunities’.
***
So, I am just trying to notice. Trying to notice the spaces
where there doesn’t have to be a long
to do list or anywhere to be, the spaces where we might just stop a while
longer, here, just where we are, allowing… allowing the possibility for play to
unfold.
Like last Sunday when after plenty of restlessness, and
plenty of jobs/structured things, like the working at the allotment, a short visit
to the park, homework etc… the children finally slipped into a long stream of
imaginary games eventually culminating in a puppet show that they wanted to
share with me. Their rooms were a mess – it was ‘on the list’ to tidy them, but
instead, I let them play. These moments are golden.
Or the Sunday before that when I allowed them to dress me up
in whatever they chose and we spent two hours being creative and having fun –
me doing very very little, just letting them play with me present.
Or this Sunday, when my husband and I just took a little
longer to pack down our tent after our first camping trip of the year – the children
slipped into playing a long imaginary game completely co-operatively, and of
their own devising. And I just noticed. And allowed the space for it. Slowing a
while before rushing on to the next place to be (we did have somewhere to be!)…
And, today at the park after school, brief, but no less
vital, the free play – a safe distance away, with the adults watching but also
not watching; allowing, trusting.
It’s hard to keep the space for play, but it’s not
impossible. And it’s the space that we keep – in our children’s days, in their
lives, that kindles the fire and the freedom to play. As I reflect on this
more, and notice more, I feel that playful energy returning to us all. It’s a
good moment, with the warmer days just around the corner, to set the clear
intention for being a guardian of my children’s right to play, and seeing that
they do – without pushing, but just by noticing that it is there, and allowing it
to grow in any small but not insignificant ways that I can. 