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Playful Parenting
By Lawrence J. Cohen, PhD
Ballantine Books
308 pp $23.95

Where did we go wrong? My 3-and-a-half-year-old has started preschool, and six weeks into this new adventure, he's bringing home baggage we hadn't bargained on. Stomach flu, a cold, and impetigo seemed par for the course. But he's also spouting bad language, obsessing over guns, and aggressively pretending he's a Power Ranger or Batman, superheroes he's never even heard of before, let alone watched on TV.

Are we having fun yet? We are not. Playing Florence Nightingale for my sick child got old fast. It was the violent play, though, that really upset us. How could our child -- the son of two peaceniks -- utter shocking statements such as: "Shut up! I hate you! You're stupid." And: "I'm going to kill you with my gun." We don't speak to our child that way, he never watches violent videos, and he doesn't even own a gun. (It turns out, though, that sticks, Legos, just about anything, really, including Barbie with her legs in a split -- oh my -- will do.)

My first reaction to the rudeness and gun glorification was to crack down. Hard. Bad language meant timeouts or privileges withdrawn. The boy wasn't allowed to watch his beloved Wallace and Gromit DVD for days. And if the aggressive little man wanted to play pretend guns he was on his own, I told him. Daddy and I don't do guns. We don't like them, I lectured sanctimoniously, because real guns hurt people.

Did any of this work? In a word, no. That is why I begrudgingly tried some of the strategies outlined in psychologist Lawrence Cohen's book Playful Parenting. At first I sniffed at his suggestion to play with gusto the games your kid loves and you hate. Dolls for Dad, shoot-'em-up for me. My initial reaction to the author's advice? This guy's an idiot. (I don't think Cohen would take offense. He says it takes a village idiot to raise a child. More on that later.) A child will keep playing a game regardless of whether his parents like it, so, Cohen writes, it's better to join in, take the power struggle out of the interaction, and help transform the game so you can get close to your kid.

Cohen might just be right. Playing guns is now a big hit at our house. There's one key caveat here: We use pretend weapons over realistic toy ones. As Cohen points out, what else can you do with a "real" gun besides shoot people? Pretend weapons, though, grow out of a child's needs and concerns and are endlessly creative.

For instance, my guy built a Lego gun that "shoots" film like a video camera. And he makes a finger love gun that fires hearts and kisses. (This idea, lifted wholesale from Cohen's book, initially bombed. But I stuck with it, and now it's a keeper.) And sometimes his "hand" gun discharges water to put out fires, or fire to light candles, or oxygen to help people breathe, all current preoccupations of my son's. So far this works for us. I get into the game because no one is maimed or destroyed, and I'm enchanted by where his imagination takes us. And the little guy gets to play gun until he's had enough -- which is much sooner these days, now that I'm a willing participant. He even says, "Don't worry, Mama. It's just a pretend gun, not a real one."

I suspect Cohen would be pleased by our progress. After all, the underlying thesis in his text is that play isn't just child's work. Adults need to get down on the floor, he writes, if they want to develop strong bonds with a child, solve conflicts, and raise a confident human being. Kids get close to loved ones, blow off steam, and have fun while they play.

They also explore their child's world, grapple with feelings, and work out stressful situations through play. By taking the time to join them on their own terms, the author says, parents can help a child communicate hard-to-express sentiments, encourage togetherness, and resolve emotional hurts.

A few other themes run through Cohen's playful parenting concept. First up, play is central to keeping at bay the childhood distresses of isolation and powerlessness. Play can help an adult tune in to a child's emotional state and act as a connecting bridge, alleviating loneliness. Likewise, he says, parents should encourage kids to play whatever they choose to, be adventurous (within safe limits), achieve goals, and test their physical and emotional strength. As they do so, feelings of powerlessness are replaced by confidence and competence.

Take Cohen's example of Laurie, a single mom, and her 10-year-old son David, who for years have played what they call the lava game. The two wrestle on the bed, pretending that the floor is covered with molten lava. The goal of the game is to stay safely on the cozy bed instead of falling into the hot lava. Sometimes mom and son rescue each other and sometimes they push each other in. Without thinking much about it, the two of them "tune in" and adjust the game to their feelings at the time. In a game as simple as this, Cohen says, the child gets to address themes such as loss, danger, rescue, strength, and aggression.

Throughout Playful Parenting the author uses the metaphor of a cup filling, emptying, and refilling as a way for adults to look at the rhythms of children's needs. Some kids are like leaky cups: The more you give, the more they crave. Some steal from others' cups (by force or wits) to fill themselves up. Still others run around close to empty, bouncing off the walls desperate for a refill, sloshing out what little they have left in their cups. Those images are stuck in my head now. When my wee one starts zooming like a wind-up toy on stimulants, I automatically think: Play time. And it's on to a soothing game together.

The author's other big point: Get silly. Bring on the giggles. Goof around. Acting like a village idiot is a great parenting asset, says Cohen. Let's face it, most adults do a lousy job of making room for fun and games in their lives. That's a shame, since lightheartedness fosters togetherness, takes the power struggle out of situations, and dissipates tension.

If, for instance, your child calls you a stupid poopyhead, don't automatically bark back at her. Act so dumb that you can't tell her from a pillow, and try taking a nap on her. Maybe then you'll get some courtesy and cooperation. Cohen's all for verbal games, staring competitions, wrestling matches, silly voices, roughhousing, pretend crying, nonsense songs -- his book offers a long list of ideas for ways adults can act like dolts.

Similarly, a tongue-in-cheek tone can work wonders when you need to discipline. Cohen maintains that most misbehavior is a product of disconnection and that most adults don't do their best parenting when they're mad. True enough, right?

To illustrate his point he tells a familiar-sounding story of a father and son at the checkout counter. The kid's into the candy. Father starts to fume. He says sharply: "Put that back. You can't have that." The son, as you might expect, sullenly does as he's told. But when Dad follows up with, "Nice try, though," the boy smiles. Then Dad, mellowing a little, has an idea: Does his son want to carry the change? The child is delighted. He gets to participate and stays connected with Dad. Oh, if all supermarket encounters could go so smoothly.

If I had any complaint about Playful Parenting it's that I felt exhausted after reading it. What parent has the energy required to play, play, and play some more? Especially if you suspect your kid's a leaky-sneaky-refill junkie. Cohen has a comeback, of course. He writes that if we cut back on the time we spend fighting, cajoling, nagging, berating, lecturing, and so on, we parents would have more vim to goof off with our offspring more often. Yes, yes, all right already.

It's also true that mouths have to be fed, clothes washed, houses cleaned, homework supervised, and incomes earned. So a little time-frame guidance dotted throughout the book might help make playful parenting feel a bit more doable for overextended adults.

Cohen also tends to repeat himself a bit, especially with examples (pillow fights, the love gun, and asking a teen if you can chew her gum, are all mentioned several times). And, call me a meanie, but as a less-than-perfect parent myself, I find that parenting books filled largely with success stories get tedious, and the author sounds a little smug about it all. How about a chapter on ways to handle things when tried-and-true techniques don't do the job?

Those niggles aside, though, most parents can probably learn from this book a thing or two to add to their repertoire should their child withdraw or cling, lash out or cry, act up or shut down. At the very least, a Playful Parenting approach adds a bit of zest to already happy adult-child interactions and nullifies the cringe component brought on by that perennial plea: "Will you play with me?" As for me, I'm just happy to have put my anti-gun rhetoric to rest.

-- Sarah Henry is a freelance writer who has written about health topics for the Washington Post, Hippocrates, Health, WebMD, and Parentcenter.com. She has also served as an associate producer on health documentaries for PBS.

First published June 26, 2002
Last updated September 21, 2008
Copyright © 2002 Consumer Health Interactive

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