There are six simple words that can fill any parent with dread: “Mom, will you play with me?” When my youngest, Mia, recently turned four and began kindergarten, our afternoons became punctuated with these words during the long half-days. After picking her up, we had a stretch of three hours before needing to fetch her sister, Ella, and it was during this time that Mia looked up at me with her big, hopeful eyes and asked me to play.
I know some may judge me for my honesty, but I must confess that I often cringe at this request. While I can spend hours happily dressing and undressing a doll or getting lost in a book, the idea of engaging in imaginative play often leaves me feeling overwhelmed.
“Pretend you’re the audience at my show, but I’m not a princess, I’m a fairy! Okay, Mom?” Mia instructed, her enthusiasm palpable.
“Sure,” I replied.
“You have to say, ‘Here comes the fairy!’” she reminded me.
“Alright! Here comes the fairy!” I exclaimed, trying to match her energy.
“No, Mom, you can’t say it yet!” she snapped back, rushing into the next room to fetch her costume. I could hear the chaos as she rummaged through the dress-up box before announcing, “I’m ready!”
As she danced out in her wings, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disconnect. Her version of “playing” often consisted of giving me directives on what to say or pretend, without any real opportunity for my imagination to take flight.
The repetitive nature of this play often leads me to seek excuses to escape. “I need to use the bathroom,” I might say, or “Let me grab a cup of coffee.” Sometimes, I even resort to checking my email as a way of evading the situation, which feels slightly more acceptable than suggesting we watch TV instead.
I am aware that this phase of her wanting to play won’t last forever. Soon enough, my daughters will grow too old to indulge my participation in their make-believe worlds. When that time comes, I will likely feel a pang of regret for not engaging more during their early years. Motherhood is already filled with enough guilt; what’s one more layer?
I do cherish the impromptu performances my daughters put on, filled with dance, song, and twirls. I enjoy being their audience, where I can appreciate their creativity without the pressure to actively participate. I suspect I will genuinely miss these moments when they become self-conscious and decide that being the center of attention isn’t as appealing anymore.
However, imaginative play that lacks an opportunity for my own creativity is taxing. Being directed by a four-year-old can be exhausting, and I will continue to feel trepidation at the sound of those six little words: “Mom, will you play with me?”
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In summary, while playing with my children can be challenging and often evokes feelings of guilt, I find joy in their performances and cherish the moments I can be a supportive audience rather than a participant in their imaginative directives.