<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/playmobil.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-266" title="playmobil" src="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/playmobil.jpg" alt="" width="453" height="340" /></a>
<h5 style="padding-left: 330px;">Photo by Jason Berg</h5>
When my kids have some free time and get immersed into some project or game they dream up, two things are certain to happen:

1) They are going to make a huge MESS of whatever room they're in.

2) They're going to leave their play time possessed by the sort of deep happiness and contentment that only comes from that brand of pure, abandoned play.

A few days ago, Q asked Jason to dig out a huge bin of Polly Pocket dolls and accessories from the far reaches of the basement. They haven't played with them for at least a year or two.

I'll confess—I'm really not a fan of any little plastic toy that isn't made by Playmobil. But each time I passed by the guest room, where the girls were playing, I had to smile. Every possible surface and nook of the room had been transformed into a Polly Pocket Utopia, and the girls were acting out long, involved dramas, comedies and minor tragedies with the little dolls.
<h4>Balancing open play with a desire to be "the best" at something</h4>
From what I gather, we have far more open and free play time than the average household, at least in our town. S, who is in third grade, has friends her age and younger who are intensely serious about swimming, gymnastics and dance. By serious, I mean they spend several hours four or more days a week in lessons and practice.

It's confusing for S. On one hand, she sees that these friends are becoming very skilled at something, and she wants to be "known" for some great talent, too. "I'm not <em>really</em> good at <em>anything</em>," she will worry aloud from time to time. (And anyone who knows her would find this laughable, but I try hard to listen, not just contradict her.)

<strong>While she worries that she isn't an eight-year-old prodigy at anything, I've also never known a child who is more aware of her personal need for downtime at home, and more fiercely protective of it.</strong> A half-hour piano lesson once a week and an hour of something else—chorus, soccer or art—is all she really wants to handle. Having time to read and play are like drugs to her. She's fully addicted, and needs her regular fix.

<strong>As a parent, I really struggle with this issue, too.</strong> I want to encourage their natural talents and teach them how important it is to apply themselves and commit to working at something if they want to excel. But I do not want to manufacture a drive that isn't there, or put pressure on them to be "the best" at something.

While I'm thinking of their best interests, there's also a selfish twist thrown in: Because my girls are at their dad's house one-third of the time and H is with her mom two-thirds of the time, I am fiercely protective of our time with them. I don't want to spend it running them from one lesson or practice to another, rushing through dinner or, even worse, not sitting down to eat together at all. There's nothing the girls seem to crave more than a "family dinner" and evening of playing games together.
<h4>Not that we need Yale research to tell us this...</h4>
I'm sure it's been written about countless times, but @DarryleP on Twitter recently provided a link to this article:<a href="http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/education/orl-freeplay0409feb04,0,3288477.story"> Kids need time to play, do nothing and just be kids.</a> The article, which reports on a new Yale University study about the decline of free play (you can <a href="http://www.museumofplay.org/about_us/press.html">download the study here</a>, under February 09), says this:
<p style="padding-left: 30px;"><em>Among the study's key findings: "Mothers from practically all countries [say] that childhood as they know it is over." All that striving to achieve in academics, sports and other structured activities has left youngsters little time to be children. </em></p>
<strong>Ah, childhood as we knew it. Remember what that was like?</strong>

As a child, I guess I was always "above average" at music and writing, and could hold my own playing softball and tennis, but I was never "a star." My brother and I, and our friends, seemed to have endless amounts of time to play with games and toys, get out huge boxes of art and collage supplies, pour through books, and ride our bikes all over town. I learned to sew, we baked lots of cookies, and there was still plenty of time for CHORES. (That's a topic for another post.)

My mom, who for more than 25 years was the owner/director/lesson planner/head teacher of a preschool, is a huge advocate for unstructured play time. She worries not only about the lack of unstructured time, but the lack of ideas for how to fill it. And many parents are no help. <strong>Even though most of us had lots of free time as kids, we seem to have forgotten how that free time works.</strong> Too many adults don't know how to provide materials and ideas to get kids started, plus they model a lack of creativity in their own free time (if they have it at all).

<strong>But as a parent,</strong><strong> I refuse to get to a place where I have to say "Remember when we had free time? To fill however we wanted?"</strong> And I think my kids are pretty happy about that, even if they aren't fully aware that I'm taking a stance.

Recently S's eight-year-old friend E came over for a long playdate. They promptly threw themselves into their first big idea: To co-author and illustrate a book of ideas for kids with nothing to do.

They started brainstorming some ideas, and refined their focus: The book would contain ideas for making things out of things you find in the recycling bin. (I'm sure such a book already exists, but they were positive they had just hit on The Most Brilliant Idea Ever.)

Then Q got involved, and suggested the first project: making designer clothes out of plastic grocery bags. They had to test the idea, of course. For hours, armed with nothing more than scissors, tape and plastic bags, they designed punk rocker outfits and wedding dresses, athletic wear and Medieval costumes. They created belts and sashes, fringe and pleats, various necklines and skirts. Then they put on a fashion show, while I took pictures. I was utterly impressed.

Of course, now I'm out of grocery bags, which we use as garbage bags in our kitchen trash, but I'm not complaining one bit. I can't think of a better cause to donate them to.