Chapter Two

CULTIVATING CURIOSITY

Children explore the world with wonder. They have an inherent curiosity facing each day as they eagerly and inquisitively uncover the new and discover the unexpected. Our job as parents is to facilitate their exploration. By valuing and trusting their playtime, we value and trust their unique and creative perspective. By providing raw materials with which to explore their many and varied ideas and interests, we allow their imaginations to take flight. Our job is to encourage them with interest, and even take a cue from their playful endeavors. Resisting the urge to “direct” their play, we lighten up—and light up. There is hardly a greater gift to a child than a parent whose own sense of curiosity is delightfully in bloom.

GETTING SERIOUS ABOUT PLAY

In my book The Artist’s Way, I routinely encourage adults to “play.” Recovering our childlike sense of wonder makes us happier, more productive adults. Many of the exercises I take my adult students through have to do with remembering fond moments from our childhood when we felt free to create with abandon.

And now it is up to us to ensure that our children will have these memories when they grow older. In a culture that is only getting busier, faster, and more technological, the pressure falls on parents to protect their children’s sense of wonder and give them the space to develop it.

One of my fondest memories as a child was the music that seemed to always flow through our house. Our family home had two pianos: one in the living room for formal play, and one in the playroom for “fooling around.” “Fooling around”—experimenting and playing “just for fun”—builds a sense of confidence in our children and a sense of faith in a benevolent Universe where their creative ideas are welcome. When they are allowed to play “just for fun,” they are allowed to make mistakes. “Do not fear mistakes; there are none,” said Miles Davis. Taking this attitude with our children—that their creativity is not a performance but an inherent part of who they are—we teach them that it is safe to take chances. As we encourage their exploration by praising their creative whims, they continue to grow, experiment, and take risks in all aspects of their lives.

“My daughter is three years old,” says David. “She lives in fantasy right now. Sometimes if she’s playing in her room, I’ll stand in the doorway for a minute until I understand ‘where she is.’ The other day I saw her sobbing on her bed as she told a story to her stuffed animals. I didn’t interrupt her, I just listened. Within a short amount of time, I realized that she was telling a story where Jafar had just killed Aladdin. When she finished recounting the tragedy to her toys, she wiped her eyes and started up on something else. What I find remarkable is that she is so creatively uninhibited right now. I want to protect that in her.”

I believe that there are fewer things more important than protecting this sense of wonder in our children. As long as our children feel safe to experiment, they are developing into original thinkers.

The playroom piano in the Cameron house was painted white and gold—and we kids did that painting. Our musical play was encouraged by our mother. “See if you can play ‘Silent Night,’” she would say with a smile. And when we did, “See if you can play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’” Often we would pick our melodies out by ear. Sometimes two of us would share the piano bench. “You’ll have to play that for your father,” my mother would exclaim when we had triumphantly picked out a melody. I remember the thrill of finding a melody within the keys, and the excitement in my mother when I did. Today, decades later, I have written hundreds of melodies that I picked from the keys with much the same curiosity. Always, I have a piano in my home. Daily, I write on it.

Play is important for all ages. I would argue that we never reach an age where play isn’t productive.

“Productive? Really, Julia?” my students counter. “Even though I struggle just to get the kids fed, bathed, and to bed at a decent hour?”

Yes. Even though there is never “enough” time, carving out time for play is essential. It doesn’t have to be much time—really, any amount of time will do. But children who play freely then go through life with a playful attitude, a levity that helps them deal with harder situations. I believe that adults who make time for play are consistently more creative and effective in their lives as well. Allowing ourselves to play, we connect to a sense of inner wonder and safety—in other words, a sense of faith.

Jill, a former lawyer, turned into a stay-at-home mom when her son was born. “I didn’t need money,” she told me. “I didn’t have to work. So I stayed home. I thought I was being a better parent by giving my son all of me, everything I had.”

Well-intentioned and formidably intellectual, Jill found herself frustrated during her son’s childhood. As her marriage crumbled, her focus on her child became more intense. Not using her own talents, she became obsessed with his. No longer writing for law journals, she wrote her son’s papers instead. His education became her business. His test scores were high, but she wanted them higher. His grades were high, but “not quite high enough”—meaning not as high as hers had been.

“Do you let your son play?” I asked her.

“He plays violin and soccer,” she replied. “He plays tennis three times a week with a renowned coach.” That wasn’t exactly what I had meant by “play.” Although he was on a top soccer team, he didn’t seem passionate about soccer. He showed up at his tennis lessons without enthusiasm. He practiced his violin, but only under Jill’s strict orders.

And was her son happy? In fact, at age twelve, he had many behavioral issues that weren’t improving as time passed. Jill hired specialists, tutors, psychologists. But at the core, things didn’t change. His teachers were at a loss, he was antisocial, and he often fought with his mom.

“I wonder if you could try giving him some free time to play,” I suggested to Jill. “Just a little.”

“How?” she scoffed defiantly. “How do I do that, and how is it going to help? He’s already been to France twice this year. That was a vacation.”

“No, not expensive vacations,” I offered gently. “Just time to do nothing. Time to do whatever he wants. Not play with video games or on the computer, but to explore something new on his own. It should cost nothing. Give him an hour.”

Visibly uncomfortable, Jill glared at me. She hated my suggestion. Her son never did anything without her watching.

“What I actually think,” I told Jill, “is that you should both have an hour just to play. You can both be at home, but just give each other some space—you in one room, him in another. Give it a try. Just once, as an experiment.”

Reluctantly, Jill agreed. Approaching her son, she asked him if he’d like to take an hour alone to do something fun at home. Anything he wanted. His eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asked suspiciously. “What’s the agenda? Are you going to be watching me?”

“I’m not going to be watching you,” Jill promised. “I’m going to be in my room, relaxing.”

“That’s not true,” her son countered. “You never relax.”

“I know,” Jill admitted. “But I’m going to try it. And you can try it, too. And we’ll see how we both liked it at the end of the hour.”

“I don’t have to be doing homework?” he asked her.

“You don’t have to be doing homework. I’d prefer that you not watch TV or play on the computer—no screens for an hour. But other than that, it’s up to you.”

Jill went to her room. She glanced at the clock, plucked a book from the shelf that she’d read for pleasure years before, and settled herself in her corner chair.

Meanwhile, her son entered his room cautiously. Could it really be true that he was allowed to do anything he wanted? For a whole hour? He glanced at the computer on his desk. The only rule is not to use screens, he thought. He felt a little thrill of adventure. If not the computer, then what did he want to do? So often the computer was an escape for him—an escape from his mother’s prying eyes and iron grip, to be specific—that he almost resented it. The computer was a hiding place. It was a place to retreat to when he didn’t want to interact with his mother, when he didn’t want to talk to the other kids at school. It wasn’t exactly a good place. Looking around his bedroom, he noticed a collection of toy robots that he had been given years before, for his sixth birthday, before his parents divorced. He had become blind to them, but there they were, sitting on his shelf where they had been for years. After pulling them out, he played for a minute with the toys he had outgrown, remembering a different time—a time when his family had been intact. Then he moved to his desk and took a legal pad and a pencil from his drawer and began to write.

Meanwhile, Jill was shocked to see how quickly time had passed. Looking up from her book, it had already been an hour and fifteen minutes, and she hadn’t heard a sound from her son’s room. Walking quietly toward his door, she glanced inside. He sat, brow furrowed, writing on his legal pad, oblivious to her presence. Swallowing an excited exclamation, she moved back down the hall to the kitchen, where she started to prepare dinner.

“It was amazing,” Jill told me later. “Truly amazing. That night at dinner he told me he had written a short story about a boy living in Boston. It was clear that the story was about him, but I didn’t let on that I knew that. He’s had a hard time since his father and I got divorced, and I’ve so often tried to get him to talk about it. He’s always disappearing into his computer instead. But the fact that he’s writing—I was moved to tears. And we had more to talk about that night at dinner than we had in a long time.” As Jill continued to give herself and her son these “free” hours on an almost daily basis, she was thrilled to see his grades and demeanor start to improve as well.

“There’s a lot he can figure out on his own, I guess,” she told me sheepishly. “I thought I had to have all the answers. But I don’t have them.”

I say, thank God we don’t. And remembering that we are, indeed, not God frees us and our children to access the divine creative spirit within each of us—and to be surprised and delighted by what we find. Following our creative urgings, we learn there is only one thing we can expect: the unexpected. And there is little more thrilling than experiencing this gentle sense of surprise.

Play is important for all ages. Allowing ourselves—and our children—play time unlocks a certain magic in all of us, regardless of age or intellect. When we let our children’s play run its course, when we resist hovering and meddling with what they are doing, or putting so much pressure on product that the idea of process is lost, we and our children are truly free.

REDISCOVERING PLAY

  An Exercise  

If you find yourself wanting to hover over your children and micromanage their play, you might need more play yourself. Can you give yourself—and your child—the gift of letting go? It may be as simple as letting your toddler explore drawing without “improving” their artwork, or letting him tell you a story without finishing it for him.

Take pen in hand and list five ways that you played during your own childhood. Choose fond memories. How exactly did you feel? Free, open, safe? Now choose one of these activities and create the space for your child to do the same thing.

Example:

RAW MATERIALS

I grew up in a house that was well stocked with play materials. We had building blocks, LEGO, clay, crayons, acrylic paints, and musical instruments. All of these resources were available to us “on demand.” We had coloring books and blank paper for free-form drawing. Our mother would set out the day’s choice of supplies. Sometimes she would suggest a topic, for example, “Today, let’s draw horses,” or “Today, let’s draw kitties.” And so we would set our hand to rendering what was chosen. Our mother would leave us to our own devices, checking in on us every so often.

Our playroom had a vinyl floor, so our messes were easily cleaned up. Sometimes, one of us would do a particularly fine drawing and our mother would exclaim over its excellence, asking, “Can I pin this up?” She had a large bulletin board where she posted our finest work. Sometimes our work would be so wonderful that it deserved framing. This was something our father undertook. It was thrilling to have a piece of our art framed and hung on the wall. I still remember my sense of pride when they chose to frame a rearing golden palomino horse I’d drawn, complete with mountains in the background.

The very definition of creation—making something from nothing—is an ability that we all have, but young children may be the most in touch with it. Worlds are created from a blank page and a few colored pencils. Stories are written as plastic horses gallop across the tiles on the kitchen floor.

Children are playful, and they will play with the materials they have at hand. If nothing else is available, they’ll play with sticks and dirt. Pots, pans, and spoons are excellent playthings.

“I say don’t buy toys,” says Linda, a mother of three. “You’re always going to have plenty of toys, given as gifts or inherited. There’s never a shortage of toys. And definitely don’t buy a toy that has only one use—because that’s how many times it will be used: once. The best toys have a million uses. Blocks are my favorite.”

Toys can make our homes into obstacle courses when we indulge in purchasing every toy of the moment, and keeping up with the fads is ultimately a lot less valuable than giving long-lasting tools to our children that allow them ample room for imagination.

We needn’t go out and buy things. As parents, it falls to us to supply a variety of raw materials for creativity—the simpler, the better. The first and perhaps most powerful tool is blank paper. Just think of what a piece of blank paper can become: a drawing, a poem, a boat, a magic carpet—the possibilities are vast. The simple addition of a box of crayons entices your child into coloring. The finished drawing or tepee or hat should be given a place of honor. Your child is encouraged by the attention paid to his work. A few dress-up clothes can inspire your child to transform into characters, inventing stories and even performing made-up skits for the family or just for their toy collection.

Stuffed animals are another rich source of play. A few encouraging comments, such as “Is it Bunny’s naptime?” will lead the child in fruitful directions. Stuffed animals may play together, and don’t be surprised if your child creates a voice-over. Miniature farm animals, woodland creatures, plastic bugs can become imaginary environments where entire worlds exist.

Clay allows your child to work in three dimensions. Mommy, Daddy, household pets—all may be sculpted. Building blocks entice your child to create houses for their clay animals, or they may create a garage, which in turn requires toy cars to join in the fantasy.

Inviting your child to make music is a potent source of fun. A drum can be made of an empty oatmeal container. A tiny keyboard can be a source of great joy. Add tambourines, maracas, and a train whistle and you’re ready for a parade.

The best toys are the most open-ended ones. Fertile play encourages concentration and focus, and, deep “in the zone” of play, our children often become so absorbed that they don’t even notice that we’re there. They are developing their ability to sustain attention. They are also developing their creativity.

My daughter, Domenica, preferred her herd of Breyer horses to any other form of play. She would “gallop” her herd from bedroom to living room. As she grew older, her play grew more complex. Her horses acquired names and distinct personalities. Two of her horses, Goldie the palomino and Sandy the Arabian, often vied for leadership of the herd.

“What about Spotty?” I would inquire, singling out her Appaloosa.

“No, Mommy,” she would reply firmly, identifying the palomino as her leader of choice. Children are inventive, and the imaginary worlds they create are very real to them.

“I can give my four-year-old daughter, Sadie, a vacuum cleaner hose and she’ll be occupied for a really impressive stretch of time,” says Ronald, a writer. “It’s amazing to me what she can do with nothing, really. I sit nearby, working on my book, and tear a page out of my notebook for her. Before I know it, Sadie tells me she is writing her own book. I feel like kids live so close to inspiration.” Indeed. Inspiration and imagination may be much more closely related than we might at first realize. The willingness to look outside ourselves, to reach into the ethers and pull back whatever idea floats nearby, is a state that children live in, and a state that adults tend to move further from as the demands of their lives require them to be “sensible.” But we are better off when we are imaginative, and our children are no different. Handing our children less is sometimes more: a vacuum cleaner hose may very well catapult Ronald’s daughter into originality and freedom, while overcomplicated toys—or too many toys, period—may dampen her spark more than ignite it.

“I’ve learned the hard way that the more expensive and complex the toy is, the sooner my son loses interest in it,” says Andi. “I think that giving him less really is more. The blank page never wears out for him. He’ll do a million drawings with his old, dull crayons and ignore the elaborate remote-controlled car I spent too much money on. I think it’s that whenever he is making something, he’s always interested.” When our children have room to grow, they fill that space. They want to grow. It is human nature to explore and expand. By handing them the raw materials that facilitate that, we encourage and enable their growth.

“But that’s much too simple!” wails Gillian, a highly trained archaeologist. “You don’t understand. I want my son to be brilliant. I want to teach him everything.”

Yes, of course she does. But this assumes that Gillian knows everything. As parents, we often wish that we had the power to give—and teach—our children everything they could possibly need to know. And although this would be convenient in theory, it is neither true nor desirable.

As Gillian knows from her experience as an archaeologist, the fun is in the search. She never knows where her explorations will lead, and it is in this not-knowing that she is inspired to continue. The best raw materials we can give our children are the ones that allow the most room for their unique personalities to explore and expand.

For her daughter’s sixth birthday party, Martha decided that instead of buying party favors available at the local dime store, she would create an activity for the girls at the party that would result in them going home with a party favor—but one that they had made themselves. At each girl’s place at the table waited a brown paper bag. Also serving as a place card, each bag was decorated with a brightly colored sticker and featured the name of the guest in large, fancy print. Once at the table, the girls opened the bags to discover only raw materials inside: a wooden spool and some yarn. Martha showed the girls how the spool was built to weave a bracelet from the yarn in their bag. She showed them how to begin and helped them along as the girls each wove themselves a simple bracelet. At the end of the party, they each proudly wore their creations. Years later, the guests still remembered that party as being magical. “I made so many more bracelets with my spool,” says Amy. “I taught my younger sister how to do it, too. In hindsight, the magic was in the feeling of creation. It was one of my favorite birthday parties I ever went to. I was always intimidated when there was a piñata, because it felt like a competition. But this was so welcoming to everyone. We had something to bring home that we were proud of.”

SOMETHING FROM NOTHING

  An Exercise  

Take pen in hand and list three “tools for exploration” that are already in your house. Are they being used regularly, or have they been dismissed? The simplest tools are best, and often inexpensive and already at hand.

1.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

2.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

3.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

Offer your child one of these items and allow yourself to be surprised at what you both might be able to make of it. And whatever you both make—appreciate it.

RESISTING THE URGE TO MEDDLE

Letting our children grow is much like planting a garden. We plant the seeds that we think will bring beauty to the world, survive the seasons, and continue to blossom fully, far past the moment we put them in the ground. But once we plant the seeds, we need to go on with our day, planting other seeds, attending to other tasks. If we obsessively watch the garden, waiting impatiently for our first green sprout, we will drive ourselves crazy, and, I would argue, slow our garden’s progress.

The same is true for our children. We can suggest games, toys, and ideas, but it is not up to us what our children do with the suggestions we offer. As with the garden, we cannot hover over our children’s delicate process and expect that it will help or speed it up. It is, in fact, likely to do the opposite.

When I teach, I often talk about how I am Johnny Appleseed, tossing out ideas and tools for growth and then going on my way. Behind me, my students grow and blossom. There is little that’s more rewarding than seeing what happens when a person unlocks his or her own ideas and brings them to fruition. Our children are no different. We can offer suggestions as starting points, but what our children do with those suggestions is where the magic begins. The surprise lies in the inspiration that emerges. It may be moments later or years later, but it certainly feels like the work of God’s hand when we observe the garden of our children’s world start to grow.

As parents, we are as much a place for our child as a person. We are the place that is safe and secure. We provide a supportive atmosphere where our children are able to play. A day’s play might begin by our setting out the day’s tools—we might lay out an oilcloth, a tablet, and acrylic paints. We might lay out a small herd of toy horses. Our children might request the toys of the day, perhaps building blocks or modeling clay.

Once we have selected the day’s playful paraphernalia, we can leave our children to their own devices. If we hover too close, we squelch our children’s creativity. With the best of intentions, we can overdo our supervision. Let’s say your child chooses to make a bright green dog. Your job is not to “correct” it; although you might say, “I’ve never seen a green puppy,” you cannot say, “Puppies aren’t green.” Left alone to play with clay, your child may model a horse, or perhaps a lizard. Your job is to encourage it—whatever it is—and remind your child (and yourself) that there is no wrong way to play.

“When my son was born, I became ‘that guy,’” Jake, an engineer, told me. “My dad was overbearing. I swore I would never be. But once I had a son of my own, it was like my conditioning took over. It wasn’t about logic anymore. I named him Jake Junior, and immediately saw myself in everything he did. When he was three, I wanted to ‘help’ him put his puzzles together and, of course, ended up doing them for him. My perfectionistic attention to detail helps me in engineering, but not in parenting. It’s like I thought it was my job to correct everything Jake Junior was doing, even when he was playing.”

Inevitably, Jake Junior began to resist his father’s meddling. At age three, he threw a tantrum when his dad impatiently put the simple puzzle together for his son. By age six, Jake Junior described his dad as “usually in a bad mood” and as someone who “tells people what to do.”

“I realized I was turning into my father,” Jake Senior continued. “And I had to think it through. I practically disowned my father by the time I was eighteen. And I had been resenting him for years before that. I didn’t want this to happen to me and my son.”

“What did you want from your father?” I prodded Jake.

“I wanted him to accept me. I wanted him to think I was good enough. When he did everything for me, I felt like he was showing me that he didn’t have any faith that I could do it myself.”

“Then maybe you can consciously look for ways to show Jake Junior that you accept him as he is. That you want to hear what he has to say. That his attempts and instincts matter. That you’ll give him a chance to respond on his own.”

Jake Senior reluctantly agreed to give it a try. After a few weeks, I heard from him again.

“I still have this voice inside telling me that by involving myself with everything my son does, I am helping him. But intellectually I know that I am being controlling by doing that. It was so hard for me to back off—and I failed in most of my early attempts. But one day, Jake Junior exploded at me. He was working on a model airplane, and he had made a mistake in building it. I corrected the mistake, and finished up the building of it. I thought he’d be excited to see that it was done, but he couldn’t have been more upset. His face turned crimson, and through tears of frustration, he said, ‘All of my projects become yours, Dad. You don’t leave anything for me. You’re mean.’ I was totally taken aback. But then I realized that he couldn’t have been more right.

“Even though I have provided a pretty luxurious life for my son, I have been stingy with him emotionally. And it occurred to me that every time I felt the need to control his action, thought, or reaction, maybe I should try giving him a compliment instead. And so every time I would think about correcting his homework, I’d look at something he had already done right and tell him I was proud of him for that. And then I’d leave the room. It felt like a totally radical experiment, but the results amazed me. He’s been a lot more productive on his own. I’m realizing I can’t control him—and I shouldn’t. But I can improve the situation by adjusting my own behavior. And it does seem to trickle down.”

Jake’s story is, to my eye, an incredible leap forward. For Jake, letting go of his position as “boss” felt like losing his identity. Parenting is not the same as running a business. There may be interpersonal dynamics and strategic planning involved in both, but the same animal they are not.

When our children are young and we cannot venture too far from them, it is still possible to give them space to explore. Linda tells the story of her mother keeping toys on a special shelf in the kitchen. “She would be cooking dinner, and we would be on the kitchen floor, lost in our own world. She was doing what she needed to do, but she had an eye on us.” When Linda had children, she built a toy cabinet in the kitchen. “We can all be near each other without being overly enmeshed. Everyone’s safe, and everyone’s being productive. And the sense of company is really nice.”

When I was little, I preferred acrylic paints to crayons. While I labored away at painting a horse, my mother took advantage of my concentration to do some concentrating of her own. Seated at her writing desk, which was near—but not too near—our play area, she penned letters to her mother-in-law, Mimi, and to her far-flung siblings. She might comment on our play, but she wouldn’t interrupt it.

Our children are aware of us, and they are aware when we are focused on them. They can sense when we trust their time alone and their individual flow of ideas. Sensing our trust, they learn to trust themselves. They allow themselves to venture down an imaginary road that brings them to a new idea and a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment. As time passes, these same skills will help them to become creative, confident thinkers.

In the Cameron home, our play often sought to integrate our experience. “Look, Mom. It’s Misty of Chincoteague.” We were seeking to illustrate the novel by Marguerite Henry that was read to us at night. We might draw a choo-choo train toiling up a steep hill. “Look, Mom. The Little Engine That Could,” we would announce.

It falls to us as parents to receive our children’s offerings with delight. The more enthusiasm we can muster for their efforts, the more they will try. “Close but not too close” is the motto for this phase of our children’s development. Sometimes I think of a parent as a lovely willow tree where children may play in the shade. I tried sharing this image with my daughter, who responded by making a crayon sketch of a tree with a child underneath. “That’s me,” she said proudly. “That’s me,” I echoed, pointing to the tree. “Oh, Mommy, you’re not a tree,” Domenica protested. “Sure I am,” I said. “Just pretend.”

Domenica did pretend, putting a tree in all her drawings.

Children who are allowed to be creatively free tend to become creatively free adults. And children whose play is discouraged or controlled tend to grow into people who second-guess their own instincts. It is a long path of recovery to regain that faith, and while not impossible, it is rigorous. I have watched thousands of my students work to recover their true identities as adults. It is exciting, fulfilling work. But if certain wounds can be avoided in the first place, isn’t it our duty to try to prevent them?

As we trust and encourage our children to follow their imaginings wherever they may lead, we empower them to develop into original, creative beings. And there is little more magical, or more surprising, than watching their journey unfold.

DEFINING INTERESTS

  An Exercise  

Take pen in hand. List five of your favorite interests.

1.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

2.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

3.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

4.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

5.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

Now list five interests your child has that you are unfamiliar with. Can you consciously let those interests be his alone, and allow those interests to blossom?

1.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

2.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

3.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

4.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

5.__________________________________________

__________________________________________

THE POWER OF PRETEND

Goethe said, “Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Because action has magic, grace, and power in it.”

I believe that every person is creative and that, as adults, we tend to stray from some of the natural inclinations we were born with. As we watch our children play, we remember a playful side of ourselves. As we see our children pretending, we remember our own sense of wonder and possibility. Inspiration lies in the mysterious, in the tiny flash of an idea that whispers to us, quietly inviting us to listen.

I believe that in our natural, unblocked state, we are in touch with this quiet voice. Children are naturally unblocked and naturally alert to these promptings. One of the most awe-inspiring things to witness, and one of the most powerful games to encourage in our children, is the game of pretend. They may play pretend with their friends, with their stuffed animals, alone, or with you. Imaginary friends are commonplace. Your child may carry on a long and winding conversation with this unseen companion, and your job is to step aside and allow them to “visit.”

Patt tells the story of her son, Arthur, who, at age six, began his obsession with fairy tales. “I was just doing the dishes and watching the kids through the window,” Patt says with a laugh, “and there was Arthur in the backyard with his Big Wheel flipped upside down. He was spinning the wheel with his hands so intently. He looked a little crazy, but he was having fun and he was safe, so I didn’t bother to go outside and ask what he was doing. Then the next day, there he was doing it again.” Patt shakes her head at the memory. “I had to know what was going on in that head of his. And when I asked him—get this—he said he was Rumpelstiltskin, spinning gold.”

Patt smiles at the memory. “He was always very creative. Still is. His imagination is just always going like that. It’s who he is. So who am I to get in the way?” Arthur went on to write musical adaptations of fairy tales, and quickly thereafter, to create his own fairy tales. By the age of twenty-five, he had written eight original full-length musicals.

“I am absolutely sure that spinning gold on the Big Wheel was connecting things in his brain,” says his writing partner. “His understanding and knowledge of fairy tales is awesome. He thought about them so much that they are a part of his vocabulary, an almost automatic part of how his mind works today. I don’t think there’s anything better he could have been doing with his time. He is a genius for sure, but maybe more important than that is his enthusiasm. He loves what he does—and that’s what makes him so productive. He is a fountain of energy because he is having fun.”

Arthur’s imagination is as alive today as it was the day he spun gold in the backyard, and when I look at Patt’s parenting, I see why Arthur is so free as an artist. Patt’s impulse as a parent was to encourage each of her four children along the lines of their interests and personalities. Today, she has four strikingly different—and staggeringly accomplished, kind, and personable—grown children. As I watch her interact with them now, I see hints of what she must have done all along. She loves them unconditionally, supports their ideas, has a keen interest in each, and puts none of them on a pedestal. Humor runs high in her household. Even today, as I talk with her about Rumpelstiltskin, she laughs. “I don’t see myself as particularly creative, at least not in the way Arthur is,” she tells me. “But he’s entertaining, that’s for sure.” As Patt continues to be a loving and enthusiastic audience member, she is giving Arthur everything he needs. Sometimes the right non-action is every bit as valuable as the right action: by not putting a lid of judgment or limits on his imaginative nature, Patt allowed Arthur to achieve his full potential with a feeling of safety and acceptance. Now an adult, Arthur also teaches, encouraging his students to explore freely. “The crazier, the better,” he tells them.

Every game of pretend is valuable. Playing pretend allows our children a specific freedom, a safe space in which they can test out different personas and figure out which feels most comfortable to them. And when they leave that safe space, they leave with knowledge—self-knowledge, however subtle, that will contribute to their confidence in—and contribution to—the world at large.

DOLL-MAKING

  An Exercise  

Making a doll—any kind of doll—can be a cathartic and exciting exercise for both girls and boys. It does not need to be a traditional-looking doll, although it may be. Allow your child to choose his materials and create his doll by his own design. Making a doll is an ideal way to merge an arts-and-crafts project with pretend play. As your child is making the doll, be it from paper, a sock, a stick, or LEGO, interact with your child. Does the doll have a name? Where does this doll live? How old is it? Is it from the city or the country? Allowing the doll to have its own backstory gives your child ownership over its invention. Ask your child to tell you about this doll, and listen with openness. If the child gives the doll the same characteristics he has, he may be using the doll to consolidate his sense of self. If the child gives the doll very different characteristics, he may be exploring alternate personas. As a parent, your job is simply to observe with interest—and watching your child work with this exercise promises to be fascinating, indeed.