Tom O'Leary is the author of RetroActive: Skip, Hop and You Don't Stop (Games We Played). He grew up playing in the streets of Peekskill, New York and now lives in Bellingham, Washington with his wife Dearbhla and his three daughters Meadbh, Aine and Aoife. Join the discussions about childhood play on his blog, Games We Played.

Last week, after a long day at work, I watched my daughters playing in the garden from my kitchen window. They were playing a game of kickball, but seemed to be doing it wrong; so I finished washing the cup in my hand and went outside to join them.

“What are you doing girls?” I asked. “Playing, Dad.” they said in unison. “Can I play?” I asked. “Sure, Dad,” they answered happily. “Ok, I'll be the pitcher. You girls can be on the same team. This tree will be first base, the oak tree will be second base and the edge of the bushes will be third base."

There was a slight hesitation before my eldest daughter responded, “The oak tree can't be a base, Dad. And the bushes can't be a base either. And Aine and I can't be on the same team.” I looked at them, confused, and asked, “Why?” “Well, the oak tree is where the fairy princesses live and they're sleeping right now. The bushes are the entrance to the dragon's cave and Aine is a unicorn. I'm a giant and I'm trying to catch the unicorn, who is protecting the fairy princesses.”

It didn't take too long before I was reminded that I was involved in a different world. Soon enough, I remembered my own childhood. When I was a boy, we created the rules. We didn't follow them. We picked the teams. We didn't join them.

As parents, we want the best for our children. We instinctively desire that they have the best of everything: the most memorable experiences, the happiest days, the most secure futures. Sometimes, however, this desire to do everything possible for our children interferes with what is actually best for them. Sometimes, the best thing we can do for our children is just open the door to let them go outside.

With the best of intentions, we have a tendency to over-involve ourselves in the play of our children. We think that our experience will serve to make their experiences better. We organize activities, sign them up for teams and provide guidance on how they can improve their skills. We do this with the deepest love we have and in an effort to provide the best opportunities for them. We think how wonderful it is that they are able to play soccer on a professional-quality field and in uniforms that make them feel like they are part of a big-league team. We do our best to offer excellence to our children. We want them to have things we didn’t have when we were young.

What we forget sometimes is that one of the most important aspects of childhood play involves the natural, creative, unstructured and self-learned process that takes place when parents or coaches aren’t around. The way that children come together, invent a game, make the rules, resolve conflict and create fun for themselves is extremely important — not only as a means for them to learn experientially, but as material for lasting childhood memories. This natural process of play becomes threatened when adults get too involved. Teaching a child to do something right is sometimes less important than allowing a child to do things wrong on their own. The fact is, in play, children don’t need our help.

Too often, nowadays, our children spend their time being shuttled back and forth, to and from organized, structured activities. There are coaches, uniforms, instructions, skill assessments, fees and commitments in modern play. Houses are no longer connected by the footprints of children and many neighborhoods are quiet. Children no longer have to invent games; they just have to participate in them. They don’t make the rules; they abide by them. They don’t pick the teams; they join them.

The participation in natural, unstructured and creative childhood play teaches our children more than any coach ever could:

In play, children learn how to resolve conflict through compromise
The simplicity of “do-over” as a method of balancing two opposing opinions during play
could be a lesson for many corporate and political quarrels.

In play, children learn how to be fair
The process of selecting “It” is based on pure objectivity.

In play, children learn how to be tolerant
They learn that no player is too small, too slow or too awkward
to be included in the game.

In play, children learn to adapt
Rules are introduced or adapted as needed to ensure an even playing field,
or to increase the challenge for skilled players.

In play, children learn teamwork
Making a human chain in jail to give our remaining teammates
a better chance to free us demonstrates our unity.

In play, children learn to trust
There is no greater ally than your playing partner.

In play, children learn to take chances
Is it possible to make it to the other side if I run now?

In play, children learn to laugh and not take themselves too seriously
It’s just a game, after all.

And in the perfect imperfection of unstructured, creative play, children are reminded of the most important thing: that they are children and that play is fun, just like it should be.

Posted June 2010