The simple phrase that can evoke dread in any parent: “Mom, will you play with me?”
Jenna, my spirited four-year-old, had just embarked on her kindergarten journey, and we were navigating through a series of early dismissals. After picking her up for a brief three-hour stretch before collecting her older sister, she looked up at me with those big, hopeful eyes and uttered the words that make my heart sink.
Some may judge me harshly, labeling me as a negligent parent, but I must confess—I often find myself cringing at the thought of playing with my kids. Hand me a Barbie doll, and I can engage in dress-up for hours. Give me a captivating book, and I will read aloud to anyone who listens. Present me with some Legos, and I’ll build magnificent structures. But when it comes to imaginative play? I just can’t muster the enthusiasm.
“Pretend we’re at the circus, but I’m not a clown. I’m a butterfly, okay, Mom?” Jenna said, her excitement palpable.
“Sure,” I replied, attempting to meet her energy.
“You have to say, ‘Here comes the butterfly,’” she instructed.
“Okay! Here comes the butterfly. I love your sparkly wings! Can you show me how to fly?”
“No, Mom, you can only say, ‘Here comes the butterfly.’ Okay?” she snapped, a hint of frustration in her tone.
“Got it. Here comes the butterfly,” I said, feeling slightly reprimanded.
“I’m not ready yet! You can’t say it yet.” And off she darted, rummaging through the dress-up box before declaring, “I’m ready!”
“Here comes the butterfly,” I called out as she twirled into the room, adorned in her wings.
“Now pretend this is a show, and I’m a Barbie bride. This is my wedding,” she continued, directing me again.
“Okay,” I said, not quite ready for another round of the same routine.
“You have to say ‘Here comes Barbie bride.’”
“Alright. Here comes Barbie bride,” I complied.
“I’m not ready yet, Mom. You can’t say it yet.” The pattern was becoming clear.
Playing with my daughter often feels like a series of commands where my role is reduced to merely saying what she wants me to say. I find myself concocting excuses to escape these sessions of “play.” I suddenly need to use the restroom, make a cup of coffee, or check if the mail has arrived. The worst excuse? “I need to check my email,” which is only slightly less evasive than suggesting we watch television instead.
I know that soon enough, my daughters will outgrow these playful moments, and I’ll likely regret not participating more actively during their childhood. I already carry a fair amount of motherly guilt; what’s one more layer?
I genuinely enjoy the performances my girls put on—singing, dancing, twirling. They are adorable, and I appreciate my role as the audience. I can clap, cheer, and capture their moments on camera without feeling pressure to engage directly. Still, I’ll be sad when those days of carefree performances come to an end, replaced by teenage self-consciousness.
However, the type of imaginative play that involves little creativity on my part drives me to distraction. Being bossed around by a four-year-old is not my idea of fun, and thus, I remain apprehensive about those six dreaded words, “Mom, will you play with me?”
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In summary, while engaging in imaginative play can feel overwhelming and often frustrating for some parents, it’s essential to cherish these moments, recognizing they are fleeting. Balancing your role while nurturing your child’s creativity may lead to greater appreciation and connection in the long run.