Six simple words can evoke a wave of anxiety in any parent: “Mum, will you play with me?” Such a request can feel like a weighty burden, especially when your child is eager to dive into a world of imaginative scenarios.
My daughter, newly four and fresh from her initial days in kindergarten, had just been picked up from a half-day session. With three hours to fill before we needed to collect her older sister, she looked up at me, her eyes shining with anticipation. I braced myself for the inevitable.
I’ll admit, many may judge me harshly, labeling me a negligent parent, but the truth is: I genuinely dislike playing with my children. Hand me a Barbie doll, and I could happily change her outfit for hours. Present me with a book, and I’ll read aloud to anyone within earshot. Give me a set of Legos, and I’ll construct masterpieces. But when it comes to “playing,” I find it exasperating.
“Let’s pretend it’s the circus, but I’m not a clown. Now I’m a butterfly. Okay, Mum?” my daughter, whom I’ll call Emily, declared with excitement.
“Sure,” I responded, attempting to muster enthusiasm.
“You have to say, ‘Here comes the butterfly,’” she instructed.
“Okay, you’re a butterfly. I love your sparkly wings. Can you teach me how to fly?”
“No Mum, you can only say, ‘Here comes the butterfly.’ Okay?” she said, her tone indicating I was not following the rules.
“Got it. Here comes the butterfly,” I replied, feeling a rising frustration.
“I’m not ready yet, Mum. You can’t say it yet.” Emily dashed off, rummaging through her dress-up box. “Now I’m ready!” she called.
“Here comes the butterfly,” I announced, only to have her retreat again, demanding a different scenario.
“Now pretend I’m a Barbie bride girl at my wedding,” she said. “And you have to say, ‘Here comes Barbie bride girl.’”
“Alright, here comes Barbie bride girl,” I repeated.
“I’m not ready yet, Mum. You can’t say it yet.”
It became evident that my role in this imaginative play was limited to echoing her words. The experience of “playing” morphed into a series of commands where I had no real agency.
In an effort to escape these play sessions, I found myself resorting to excuses: I need to use the restroom, make coffee, or perhaps check if the phone was ringing. I even contemplated the audacity of suggesting we watch television instead.
I recognize that this phase of my children’s lives is fleeting. Soon enough, they will outgrow wanting to engage in playtime with me. A tinge of guilt washes over me when I consider that I might regret not participating more fully during their formative years. Motherly guilt is a familiar companion, after all.
While I cherish the performances my children put on—full of dance, twirling, and song—where I can sit back as an appreciative audience, the thought of imaginative play drives me to distraction. Being ordered around by a four-year-old can be taxing, and I find myself dreading those six little words, “Mum, will you play with me?”
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In summary, while the request to play may fill some parents with joy, for others, it can be a source of anxiety. Understanding our preferences and finding ways to engage in our children’s activities—while also recognizing when to step back—is essential for nurturing a healthy parent-child dynamic.
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