I think for all adults there are moments where playing with kids just doesn’t sound fun. Whether it’s because of the activity the kids are doing, the energy level of the adult, or the adult’s desire to be doing something else, many things can hinder our engagement with playful children. From this position usually flows one of two options: we either enter in as guilt-driven, half-hearted participants in the tea party, bubble-blowing, or hide-and-seek, or alternately, we watch. In either case, we don’t really ever enter play ourselves and thus fail to serve ourselves or the children. Instead, we can empower ourselves as playful parents to find what I call the “convergence” point and increase our capacity to engage and have fun with kids in every moment.
“Convergence” was a game I learned when I went to theatrical improv school for a day with Minneapolis’ “Brave New Workshop.” The game goes like this: A group of people gather close together, and two people volunteer to go first. The whole group counts to three at which time the two chosen volunteers say a random word simultaneously. Let’s imagine the two words are bologna and basketball. As soon as the two words are out, two more people volunteer to try to find the “convergence” point between bologna and basketball. The group counts to two, and the words change, thanks to our new volunteers, to sandwich and round. The goal is to get to a place where two people have a “convergence” by saying the same word at the same time. For example, a convergence between sandwich and round might be bagel. The game is a fun mental challenge, and I recommend you play.
I have been playing it experimentally and silently to myself as I interact with my kids and it is paying parental dividends.
At twenty-nine, I have finally reclaimed the recess I had stripped from me in middle school as my family goes out every day for free play time. The problem for me is that my kids are not my peers. I would love to have thirty minutes every day to go play a soccer game, tackle football, or ultimate frisbee.However, my six-year-old throws the frisbee to his sister, drills her in the face, tears mix with blood, and no one feels super playful. Ultimate frisbee just doesn’t work for us right now. However, throwing a frisbee super-soft to my daughter five-feet away for half an hour is not my idea of the best time in the world. I can do it, but engagement and play become a chore because it doesn’t require as much of me. Instead, I’ve been seeking the convergence. I ask myself, What is the middle point between Hope, me, and this frisbee?What can we do here that requires both of us to play, and will allow this three-year-old and this antsy grown man to both have a great time? I start pretending Hope is my puppy and send her running so I can throw the frisbee farther. Her siblings soon join in, and I am throwing thirty yards for all my puppies, rather than five feet. Then I challenge myself to see if I can catch my own throws as I try to loft the frisbee and sprint across our front yard in time to catch it and the puppies who had been released. I turn mundane, tedious, ticky-tacky catch into fun, playful adventure. It becomes a time in which I get to laugh and play, Hope gets to practice her frisbee skills, and both of us run until we are actually panting like the puppies we are pretending to be. I have found theconvergence, the middle point, and from that point, joyful play and relational connection are natural.
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