On our recent Christmas Vacation in Montana Brie and I had the opportunity to go out and play together, without kids. We had taken them out earlier in the day to brave the subzero temps and foot-deep snow of the mountainous terrain, but the kids were now sleeping and it was our turn. We re-layered, left grandma and grandpa in charge, and headed out, sled in tow. Through the trees we wandered and weaved, down into a gully, and then back up again over terrain nearly too steep to climb in such snow. We took our time to view for distant deer, to enjoy the sun as it began to lower in the western sky, and to hold each other’s hand as we walked, but our journey had one main goal. We did not bring the sled for nothing.
Eventually we found the ideal spot, with fewer sagebrush, and a fairly even downhill stretch. I took a running start and jumped at the crest of the hill to land with a face-full of snow and a jarring stop. The deep powdery snow was not going to make this easy on us. Slithering like a snake, with all limbs pushing and pulling at the ground I wormed my way exhaustingly down the maybe 75-yard hill. I then grabbed the sled, and attempted to run the route back to the top. Brie climbed onto the sled sitting up, and I ran behind, pushing her back to aid in the speed. Still Sticky! About four more times we repeated this procedure before the hill finally took on a nice slick sheen and I no longer wanted to help myself gain speed as the bushes went hurtling past. In fact, it was about this time I started blasting through a big sage plant at the bottom beyond where we had formerly succumbed to friction.
Again and again we took turns making the run, laughing with delight, and then to the best of our abilities making a hasty return to the top to pass on the chariot. Probably fifteen minutes into our sledding adventure I stood at the top, catching my breath, and watching my adult bride squealing down the hillside, and I thought about how much fun we were having, and how risky it was. At this point I began to get philosophical with myself.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the difference between play and entertainment, and observing how little adult’s play and how often they simply entertain themselves, and more and more frequently how true this is of children as well. Play I’ve come to realize is risky. To play necessitates engaging with a now which is inherently slippery and unpredictable. It necessitates discomfort and unknown and in this sense is always dangerous. This is not to say I must have the opportunity to die or be bodily injured, but in order to truly play I put myself in the dangerous position of not knowing what is going to happen next. Play is an adventure. Entertainment is predictable, and if there is unknown or danger it is lived vicariously through a character or someone else. This was my hilltop revelry.
In the midst of these thoughts my wife returned to give me the sled, and gave me new thoughts, saying, “you know, play is really hard work.” How true, not only is play uncomfortable and risky, it requires effort of us entertainment never well. Entertainment says sit back, enjoy, we’ll take care of everything. Play is out there, undefined. You have to create it, imagine it, or climb the hill to make it a possibility.
Entertainment is easy which does not make it inherently evil. Board games, movie nights, and even video games have their place, but they are not play, they do not require much, but they do not give much either. As parents we must lead the charge in play. Take the risk. Do the work. It’s fun!
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