Play Time

I used to think baby swings were magical. Now, you’re more likely to find me singing the praises of play.

I had a feeling we would be (mostly) okay throughout this lockdown, not because of the fact that I had school resources for this year (and next) in the house, nor because we are used to the rhythm of being home together.

Instead, on the first morning of March break, the first day of lockdown, my six year old started the day with this memorable quote: “It’s a good thing we don’t have school to interrupt all our playing!”

I was a little naive when we started this homeschooling journey a few years ago. I had this idea that all I had to do was make school happen and my kids would (mostly) joyfully, willingly and gratefully participate. Yeah, right...

Instead, from the minute their eyes are opened in the morning to the minute we turn the lights out at night (and sometimes even after that), it’s an epic battle between my need for them to get at least something done and the imaginary world of stuffed animal veterinary clinics, endangered species birthday parties and backyard restaurants.

They are really good at playing.

And I am getting better at letting the magic happen. Because when they’re playing, they’re relaxed, they’re creative, they’re passionate, they’re excited, they’re independent and they are learning. (They are also fighting and making a mess but that’s beside the point.)

A few years ago, my wise beyond her years four year old spoke another gem. We always end our day sharing our “happies” and “sads” from the day. I don’t specifically recall what we did on this particular day but it probably involved a play date and/or a visit to grandparents, some baking or crafts and maybe even an outing. All fun stuff.

Instead of thanking me for planning a great day for her (does anyone know if that actually happens?!), she very seriously informed me that “it wasn’t a good day because we didn’t have time to play.”

Making full use of my limited wisdom, I swallowed my “What do you mean we didn’t have a good day?!” and tried not to take it personally.

The lesson (for me) was clear.

It didn’t matter that I’d planned fun things. It didn’t even matter that she had been entertained.
With those words, she communicated how she really wanted to spend her time.

She wanted to play. No time limit. No agenda. No expectations. No structure.

Perhaps this is the gift that I have truly given them, the gift of hours of unstructured play and the awareness of how rewarding it is.

The learning (that is arguably just as valuable as whatever I can put together with curriculum and copywork and experiments) is a bonus.

And once I figure out how to (consistently and patiently) deal with the mess and the fighting, there will be cheers all around!