Six little words that can send a shiver down your spine: “Mom, will you play with me?”
My daughter, Zoe, who just turned four, had recently started kindergarten, and we were in the midst of a series of short school days. I picked her up just after noon, with three long hours to kill before we had to fetch her younger sister, Lily. After a quick lunch, she looked up at me, her big eyes sparkling, and asked me those dreaded words.
Some may think I’m a terrible parent, but I’m here to confess: I really don’t enjoy playing with my children. Hand me a Barbie doll and I could dress and undress it for hours. Give me a gripping book, and I’ll read it out loud to anyone who’ll listen. Want me to build a massive Lego tower? I’m all in! But when it comes to “playing” in the imaginative sense? Well, that’s a different story.
“Pretend we’re at a circus, but I’m not the clown. I’m a butterfly now, okay, Mom?” Zoe chirped.
“Sure!” I responded, trying to keep the enthusiasm up.
“You have to say ‘Here comes the butterfly,’” she instructed me.
“Alright,” I said, “Here comes the butterfly! I love your glittery wings! Can you show me how to fly?”
“No, Mom! You’re not supposed to say that. Just say, ‘Here comes the butterfly.’ Got it?” she replied, clearly annoyed.
“Okay, okay! Here comes the butterfly,” I said, trying to sound cheerful while feeling a bit chastised.
“I’m not ready yet! Hold on!” Zoe dashed off to her dress-up box, scattering costumes everywhere. “I’m ready!” she finally called.
“Here comes the butterfly,” I shouted. Out she flitted, wearing sparkly wings, before retreating back into the playroom.
“Now pretend this is a show, and I’m a Barbie bride. This is my wedding!”
“Got it!” I said.
“But you have to say, ‘Here comes Barbie bride!’”
“Okay! Here comes Barbie bride!”
“Not yet, Mom! I’m not ready!”
I started to notice a pattern here. For Zoe, “playing” meant issuing directives while I merely echoed her words. I wasn’t allowed to truly engage; I was simply a verbal puppet in her imaginative world.
Desperate to escape, I resorted to all sorts of excuses: “I need to use the bathroom,” “I’m going to make a coffee,” or my personal favorite, “Is that the doorbell?” Sometimes, I’d even feign interest in checking my email, which is only slightly less guilt-inducing than suggesting we watch TV instead.
I know that soon enough, my girls will grow up and won’t want to play with me anymore. I’ll probably feel a twinge of regret for not engaging more in their imaginative worlds. But hey, I already feel guilty about a million other things—what’s one more?
I do cherish the performances they put on, with their dancing, twirling, and singing. Those moments are delightful because I know my role—I’m the proud audience member! I clap, cheer, and capture those adorable moments on camera without any pressure to participate. But the imaginative play where I’m just a voice on the sidelines? That drives me a little bonkers. Being given orders by a four-year-old isn’t exactly my idea of fun, so I’ll continue to dread those six little words: “Mom, will you play with me?”
For a deeper insight into parenting and self-insemination, check out our posts on home insemination kits and artificial insemination. And if you’re looking for more information on fertility treatments, this resource on IVF is excellent!
Summary:
In this candid reflection, Jamie shares her reluctance to engage in imaginative play with her children, particularly her four-year-old daughter, Zoe. While she enjoys other forms of play, the pressure of following directives in pretend scenarios leaves her feeling overwhelmed. She recognizes that these moments are fleeting and, despite the motherly guilt, finds solace in being a supportive audience during her daughters’ performances.