You’re Grown, Go Play

I don’t know how else to say this. You’ve got to go play.

No, I’m not talking about the sweet little boy in the cartoon underpants. He’s already got this thing under control. The question is, will he keep it. Way over on the left side of the picture you can see a girl with her face in the water. That’s my daughter, almost twelve when this picture was taken. She’s still got it too but many, many of the kids I know have already lost play by her age.

In fact, my son isn’t in this picture because he’s sitting next to me. He’s thirteen. Eventually, he did shrug off his almost adultness, take off his shirt and shoes, and kept pace with the carefree one pictured above. I hadn’t made a fuss about it, just said I’d watch his new tennis shoes, wallet, and iPod if he wanted to get wet. The oppressive heat helped too.

I played too. I don’t do it often but put a camera in my hand and look out, my inner child takes the wheel. It happens when I paint, laugh, play board games, and on and on. It happens after about 45 seconds of dancing and lasts for as long as I can keep moving my butt. It doesn’t happen when I knit (because that shit is serious) but maybe it will be more play-like when I get more comfortable. It happens sometimes when I’m cooking and  every single time I get dirty in the garden.

Every single time I get dirty in the garden, it turns into a playground.

I wasn’t the get dirty type of kid, so it surprises me but I love to dig in the dirt. I don’t even like to wear gloves (unless I’m weeding something vicious, then the extra grip helps) because I love the way dirt feels. I love being dirty and sweaty, the exact same way I love having paint all over me and my clothes. I even love it when my hands are stained for a few days after we tie dye.

Strange? Perhaps, but I understand it.

I’m a grown up who lost the art of play in childhood and has worked (ironically) very hard to reconnect. All of those things that I avoided like the plague from some age between cartoon underpants boy and my kids’ age, left me avoiding some of the best parts of myself. I missed her. I’ve had to go back for her.

You might want to go back for yours, too.

Love This? Never Miss Another Story.


Tim C.
Tim C.2 years ago


Fred Hoekstra
Fred Hoekstra2 years ago

Thank you Christy, for Sharing this!

Sadiq Khan
Past Member 2 years ago

Thank you

Val M.
Val M.2 years ago


Terry V.
Terry V.2 years ago

Thanks and remember "Elmo loves you"

Ana R3 years ago

:))))))))))))))))))))) Thank You, Christy!

Harshiita Sharma
Harshiita Sharma3 years ago

thanks for this article

KS Goh
KS Goh3 years ago

Thanks for the article.

Chad A.
Chad Anderson3 years ago

My coworker's son and I played "ice baseball" (hitting snowballs with a watering wand left out by the cleaners) on the roof of the building just last week and we both had a great time.

irfan d.
Irfan d.4 years ago

Being playful in thought and spirit is a most potent defense against stress, depression and physical ageing. Ironically people who are playful are thought to be less sophisticated or intelligent. A flawed mindset/stereotype we have created and keep feeding it all our lives till it negates us totally.

Time to splash in the rain puddle with the cartoon underwear on!