The Importance of Play
Years after lockdown, my children still play together with imagination and ease. Their deep sibling bond wasn’t luck—it was built through years of shared, unstructured freedom and a parent who understood the importance of play.
Today it’s a pizza shop made from magnet tiles. Yesterday, hand-drawn Minecraft characters, carefully cut out and brought to life with clay props crafted on the veranda. The rain has kept us indoors, but the atmosphere is anything but restless. At seven and nine, my kids are still playing—deeply, creatively, together.
Not because we’ve given up screens (though we keep them in check), and not because they’re unusually close in age or temperament. But because, in the earliest years of their lives, we protected their play. We let them get bored. We let the days stretch out. We gave them the gift of slow.
That foundation was built in toddlerhood, long before school bells and sports schedules started slicing up our weeks. When lockdown came, it offered more of the same—a rare extension of that early rhythm. But what I notice now, years later, is that the real gift wasn’t just the moment—it was the muscle. The habit of imaginative play. The trust in each other. The ability to slip into story.
And it still lives in them, waiting to be awakened every time life slows down enough to make room for it.
This is the importance of play in childhood development—not just as a temporary pastime, but as a foundation for social connection, emotional intelligence, and lifelong creativity.
When they were toddlers, our days were simple. Not perfect—never perfect—but spacious. We went to the park. They played in the dirt. I sat nearby, often tired, often interrupted, but present. There were baskets of blocks, bowls of water, boxes of costumes and scarves. More importantly, there was time.
We didn’t cram the calendar with classes or activities. I didn’t always feel productive. But something quiet and powerful was growing between them: a rhythm, a shared language, an unspoken understanding of how to create and resolve, to imagine and negotiate. Play was their practice ground—for everything.
And while I didn’t know it then, I was giving them a gift they’d return to again and again: each other.
Rediscovering the Rhythm (and Why It’s Still Possible)
I didn’t get everything right—and this isn’t about idealising lockdown, a time none of us wish to relive. But we were lucky that our kids weren’t yet at school. and I had read enough about child development to know that play wasn’t just a nice extra. It was foundational. So I protected it, because I understood the importance of play. I made space for it. And during those months at home, we were strict about screens—not because I was trying to win any awards, but because I knew how quickly they could take over.
What I didn’t expect was how much that decision would give back to us.
When our days slowed down—even now, years later, on rainy weekends and long holidays—that old rhythm returns. The kids pick up where they left off. They fall into shared stories and quiet concentration. It’s not perfect or peaceful every minute, but it’s solid. Familiar. Deep.
And here’s the truth: it’s never too late to begin that rhythm. Yes, it may take a bit more intention if screens have become the default. Yes, your child might be “bored” at first. But boredom is just the bridge. On the other side of it? Creativity. Connection. Calm.
You don’t need fancy toys or elaborate setups. What children really need is time. A little space. A little less noise. And our permission to play again.
This is the importance of play—not just for toddlers, but for school-aged children too. It fosters independence, resilience, and a connection to their inner world.
What They Really Need (And What You Can Do Today)
Do they still bicker? Of course. That’s part of the deal. But even in the clashes, there’s a familiarity—a sense that they can work it out. Years of play have given them not just shared memories, but practice in problem-solving, compromise, and trust. And that kind of learning doesn’t come from a screen. It comes from living alongside one another.
If you’re feeling like screens have taken over—or that your kids have forgotten how to play—you’re not alone. And you’re not too late.
Start small. Try one of these:
- Set aside one screen-free morning or afternoon each week
- Create a “yes” space where mess and imagination are allowed
- Play calming background music—The Mozart Effect on YouTube or Spotify, binaural beats, or classical playlists designed for kids
- Offer simple, open-ended toys: magnet tiles, blocks, figurines, paper, clay
- Let them get bored—and resist filling the silence
- Stay nearby, but don’t interrupt. Presence without interference is powerful.
It doesn’t take perfection. It takes presence. Rhythm. Repetition. The willingness to trust that the best parts of childhood are still available—if we make just a little room for them.
It won’t always be quiet. But it will be worth it.
Want to Go Deeper?
These books helped shape the way I think about play, rhythm, and childhood:
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