Playfulness
| parenting, playAssumed audience: I'm writing this for:
- me: I want to remember what this is like, celebrate my progress so far, and look ahead
- maybe other parents who also find themselves still figuring out playfulness
Achievement unlocked: I made A+ giggle so much that she started hiccuping
She had had a case of the mehs. After a little bit of empathizing, I flung myself over her and declared that she wasn't going anywhere, I was just going to snuggle her. It was my evil plan. I cackled a little, and then asked her for tips on proper cackling. Was it "MwahaHAha, or MwaHAhaha, or MWAhahaha?"
She said, "Meh."
I rolled with it. "Meh heh heh heh."
Ah, there, a little giggle.
I hammed it up some more. "Meh HEH heh heh heh." More and more cackling, until she was giggling continuously. She giggled so much that she started hiccuping.
"You're so funny," she said between sips of water.
That might be the only time I'll hear that from her, so I'm immortalizing it in my blog. And yes, correlation doesn't mean causation, and n=1 anyway, but I'm still going to take the win.
Play didn't come easily to me
I didn't quite know what play could look like for us, in the early days. Some parents seem to effortlessly break out silly voices or play pretend with toys. In the beginning, that felt awkward, even though I'd grown up with my dad telling captivating stories complete with sound effects and gestures. As a new parent, I often felt tired and my mind kept sliding away. It was easier to let A+ take the lead, and to focus on things like supporting and documenting. That was probably the right call for both of our personalities. From time to time, I come across parenting articles that even recommend this approach of letting the child do most of the directing. Serve and return, that's all, I just needed to keep the rhythm going; when A+ leads, I can focus on responding. I didn't even have to do it all the time; I could be a good-enough parent.
When A+ was interested in stacking blocks, I felt my job was mostly to observe and narrate appreciatively, and also to help tidy up. When she was fascinated with the water table at the Science Centre, my job was to bring dry clothes to change into. When she started building with LEGO, I helped her find pieces, but I didn't really spur her on with build ideas or roleplaying. When she moved on tea parties, I accepted my share of muddy teacups and sand cupcakes. At 9, A+ mostly likes to sing, play Minecraft, and make up stories with me. That's something I'm more comfortable with.
I'm somewhat reassured by the Slate essay Playtime Is Over!:
If you meet the child on his level and mostly watch what they’re doing instead, it’s still an act of love and attention without being such a draining experience.
I never quite felt comfortable staging those playacting dramas that would probably have helped A+ develop better social skills, like pretending one doll has accidentally bumped another one so that we could explore apologies and acceptance. I probably wouldn't have been able to get it past A+, anyway; she's pretty good at sniffing out when I'm pretending to play instead of playing pretend.
Resources
I was pretty worried in the beginning. The first six months of A+'s life were a bit of a blur, with quite a few diagnostic exams and follow-up appointments at Sick Kids Hospital. She went under general anaesthesia a couple of times, so I was extra nervous about the possible impact on her growth.1 It's hard to be playful when you're tired and anxious. Anyway, it was just what's got to be done, so we focused on figuring out how to mitigate the risks by enriching her environment. I applied to the Healthy Babies Healthy Children program, and we got approved. We regularly met with a nurse and a home visitor who helped us keep track of A+'s development, suggested relevant activities, and gave me feedback on my interactions with A+. (My notes)
I still wanted to learn more about play. We went to libraries and EarlyON child and family centres for songs, storytime, and free play. One of our favourites was the EarlyON centre at Indian Road Crescent, where Ms. Lesley was basically how I imagine Mr. Rogers or Calypso: kind, appreciative, and wise. I reach for her voice in my head when I want a model for how to talk to kids.
Thank goodness for Bluey, too, which not only demonstrated a whole trove of little games that we could play, but also helped me imagine more playful parenting with the examples of Bandit and Chilli. Bluey's totally a parenting show disguised as a kids' cartoon. A+ often suggests playing games from Bluey, like:
- Shadowlands: walk only on shadows
- Bandit's version of Follow the Leader: kids hide right behind leader, leader complains (from Daddy Putdown)
- Come Here / Go Away: played on the swing, where the humour also comes from the complaints (from Daddy Putdown)
I also borrowed all the books on play that I could find, like Playful Parenting (Lawrence J. Cohen, 2008) and Play (Stuart Brown, Christopher Vaughan, 2009), because of course I'd try to learn about play from books. Might be time to reread them, come to think of it.
Figuring out our types of play
Thanks to all these different resources, I found lots of ideas to try. Experimenting helped me gradually figure out the things that resonated with both A+ and me. I liked the music classes that A+ and I went to when she was younger. We also read and read and read. I couldn't quite do the cheerful patter I sometimes heard from other parents, but songs and books helped me fill in the times when I didn't have much to say to A+. I found another little form of play to share with her, changing the words in a book or a song so that she'd laughingly correct me. She started talking at 18 months, a little on the late side of normal, but quickly expanded her vocabulary. (Also totally fine now.)
It wasn't all cerebral, of course. A+ liked the vestibular stimulation of swinging, so we spent a lot of time at the playground. She also likes climbing and hugs, so I boost her up to monkey bars and I snuggle her for as long as she likes.
A+ likes to dive deeply into her interests, and I like to go along with her. Over the years, I've learned a lot about sharks, Rubik's cubes, Star Wars, and Minecraft. That's our kind of play, too. We have some running jokes now. For example, on learning that nurse sharks might possibly trick fish into a false shelter and then ambush them,2 we had fun imagining a nurse shark holding a "Definitely not a trap" sign. This sketch doesn't quite have the shark pointing upwards, but it was fun anyhow.
I'm learning a lot about play from life with A+. I'm learning that it can look different from person to person. I tend to have a quieter type of play, and that's okay. Also, if I don't feel like playing a particular way, it's good to say so. We can usually figure out something else, or I can figure out what I need and then check in again when I'm ready.
I'm upfront about still figuring all of this out. I think it's good for her to see that. Sure, it would make more sense for fun to be natural and effortless, but this is the kind of person I am, so I've got to work with what I've got–and that's enjoyable too, in its own way.
One of the things that's been helping me is seeing A+ also learn about and accept her own play preferences. At the playground, A+ often takes a break when her friends play a shrieky sort of game like tag. She knows she doesn't like those kinds of games, and she can find other things to do until her friends move on. She usually comes and hangs out with me instead. Sometimes we go play one of our own games. Then she heads back to check in with her friends, and they all go off to play something else.
It's fun watching A+ figure things out. When she had a hard time settling down at bedtime the other night, she suggested taking turns reading a book. I agreed, of course. I'll always say yes when she offers to read out loud, and reading out loud lets me play our old game of changing things up. "I knew you'd say yes to that," she crowed. She's learning to offer games we both like.
We're both learning about ourselves through play. Reading about play personalities, I think: ah, my dad was a joker, even towards the end of his life; one time he stashed an ice cube under his tongue to prank the nurse who came in to check his temperature. My sister's a bit of one too with her witty rejoinders. A+ might be a storyteller considering her fascination with story variations. I might be a creator, considering my list of crafty hobbies and the fun I have tweaking Emacs. Play is fun, and fun is great for self-knowledge.
Some things that seem to be working for us for now
Physical play: Pretty good way to get her out of a grump. I can challenge her to tackle-hug me: she'll try her best to push me over and collapse on me with a hug, then I'll try my best to wrap her up and prevent her from escaping. I can carry her on my back and whirl around. I can lift her up to the chin-up bar.
Clapping games: We can play Double Double This This or Slide pretty much anywhere.
Bubbles: We like bubbles. We even make our own giant bubble mix following the guar gum recipe on the Soap Bubble wiki. We've decided not to bring giant bubbles to the park when there are lots of kids around, though, because then we tend to get swarmed by other kids and it's a little stressful for A+. It's something to enjoy at small playdates.
Wordplay: It's fun to come up with puns and variations on songs. She's getting pretty good at it too.
Drawing: Silly faces are fun and easy to make. Pictionary is also good.
Singing: Good way to get in sync. We like to sing songs from Disney movies and from Wicked. There's a fair bit of research about maternal singing3, and entrainment4 might have prosocial effects even for older kids. Besides, music is fun, and we can do it pretty much anywhere.
Robot: Lots of chores get done by the Chore-Bot 9.0. A+ is amused whenever I'm a hug-bot. She also likes it when I'm a scientist or engineer investigating the functions of this mysterious device that seems to be powered by hugs.
Minecraft: Inside, we play in Bedrock if I've got the patience to reboot out of Linux and into Windows, or Java if we want to play in the world we share with W+. A+ likes to start up new worlds to try out different ideas or add-ons, so I'm slowly learning how to be less attached to any particular world.
Our shared Minecraft experiences even help us pass the time at the playground. We often play pretend Minecraft. I don't mind being the odd grown-up who's pretending to mine for iron or run away from skeletons. I think A+ enjoys rescuing me from the predicaments I make up for myself. ("Oh no, there's an Enderman! Aah! Don't look at it!" "Here's a pumpkin I carved!")
Stories: A+ loves making up stories related to Disney or Star Wars characters. Sometimes we use the fortunately/unfortunately structure to improvise a story, and sometimes we just pile things on. When I'm tired, it's hard for me to imagine enough to improvise, but I'm glad that I can explore some of her "what if" questions with ideas translated from fanfic. She also does a bit of LLM-prompting of story ideas, and she includes those in some of our bedtime improvisation as well.
Looking ahead
I've got maybe a year or two of A+ wanting to play with us before she focuses on playing with other people. I'll take that however it looks: screen time when that's what she feels like, park time whenever we can. I'm not terribly worried about screentime. I know that it can take a while to get her outside, but then she wants to stay at the park for as long as possible. It's easier to get her outside when we have playdates, which we schedule fairly regularly. When it's just me, we go with the flow.
Here's what I'm keeping an eye out for to help me get better at playing with A+:
- Managing my own patience: It's a lot easier to play when I'm well-rested, I'm not fretting, and I don't have an unfinished task hogging my brainspace.5
- Seeing the invitation properly: "Can we play together?" means "I want to connect with you." So does "I'm bored bored bored bored bored."
- Building our play vocabulary: Bluey is totally research, yeah, that's why I'm watching it. There's also paying attention to the little things that A+ and I are curious about or enjoy. The more things we try, the more ideas we can combine.
It's child's play, and that's why it's worth it.
Footnotes
The Effect of General Anesthesia on the Developing Brain: Appreciating Parent Concerns While Allaying Their Fears - Anesthesia Patient Safety Foundation was a bit reassuring. There's been more recent research too, and it's a bit mixed.
Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations:
Young nurse sharks have been observed resting with their snouts pointed upward and their bodies supported off the bottom on their pectoral fins; this has been interpreted as possibly providing a false shelter for crabs and small fishes that the shark then ambushes and eats.
Here's one example: Markova, G., Nguyen, T., Schätz, C. and De Eccher, M. (2020). Singing in Tune – Being in Tune: Relationship Between Maternal Playful Singing and Interpersonal Synchrony. Enfance, 1(1), 89-107. https://doi.org/10.3917/enf2.201.0089.
Results showed that 38 dyads spontaneously engaged in social game routines. In these dyads, both playful singing and rhyming were positively associated with dyadic gaze synchrony, while only playful singing was also positively correlated with affect synchrony of the dyad. These findings suggest that rhythms, in general, may have important implications for the establishment of interpersonal synchrony in infant-caregiver dyads. However, musical rhythms seem to be particularly emotionally-salient and thus attune both interactional partners to the affective content of their social exchanges.
Interpersonal Entrainment in Music Performance | Music Perception | University of California Press
A variety of studies have revealed that synchronized movement, both musical and otherwise, can affect attitudes and cooperative behaviors toward one’s co-actors.
Ovsiankina effect: unfinished tasks cause intrusive thoughts. See also: The psychology of unfinished tasks: the Zeigarnik and Ovsiankina effects
