Six little words that can send a chill down your spine: “Mom, will you play with me?”
My daughter, Lily, recently turned four and just began her kindergarten journey. After a series of half-days, I picked her up at noon, leaving us with three long hours before we had to return for her sister, Ava. After her lunch, she looked up at me with those big, hopeful eyes and uttered those six words that haunt my every parental instinct.
Some may label me a bad parent for admitting this, but I can’t help but cringe when I hear her request. I would happily dress a Barbie doll for hours, lose myself in a good book, or immerse myself in a complex Lego creation. Hand me a board game, and I’m on board. But when it comes to “playing,” I find the fun elusive.
“Pretend this is a circus, but I’m not a clown. Now pretend I’m a butterfly!” Lily exclaimed, her excitement palpable.
“Sure!” I replied, trying to match her enthusiasm.
“You have to say, ‘Here comes the butterfly,’” she instructed.
“Okay! Here comes the butterfly,” I said.
“No, Mom, not yet. I’m not ready!” She dashed into the next room, rummaging through her dress-up box.
When she finally emerged, she was decked out in sparkly wings, twirling around. “Now, pretend this is my wedding, and I’m a Barbie bride!” she directed.
“Got it! Here comes Barbie bride girl,” I chimed in.
Once again, I was met with a sharp “Not yet!” I was beginning to sense a recurring theme here.
Playing with Lily often involves her dictating the scenario while I merely echo her lines without any real participation. “Pretend I’m a mermaid. Pretend this is my castle. Pretend you’re a shark!” But I never get to be the shark; I’m just the voice saying I am one.
In my quest to escape these play sessions, I resort to a myriad of excuses: “I need to use the bathroom,” “I’ll make a cup of coffee,” or “Is that the phone ringing?” The worst of all—“I just need to check my email,” which is only slightly better than suggesting we watch TV instead.
I recognize that soon enough, my girls will outgrow this phase and no longer seek my involvement in their imaginative worlds. I know I’ll feel a pang of regret for not embracing these moments more fully. After all, what’s a little extra mom guilt on top of everything else?
While I adore the performances they put on—filled with dancing, singing, and pure creativity—I know my role as their audience. I cheer, I clap, and I take photos as they shine on stage, and that’s just fine by me. I will genuinely miss these shows when they grow self-conscious and step out of the spotlight.
However, the kind of imaginative play that requires me to follow orders from a four-year-old can be frustrating. So, I will continue to dread those six little words: “Mom, will you play with me?”
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In summary, while I struggle with playtime, I cherish the creativity and joy my children bring into my life. I aim to find a balance between my reluctance to engage in imaginative play and my desire to connect with my daughters.
Keyphrase: Dreaded playtime dilemma
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