Of Forts and Play Time

My dad built my sister and me a playhouse when we were little.  We wanted mini furniture and to sleep there at night like the big people do in their houses.  We tried it, once.  Mostly, I remember that my dad built us a playhouse because kids need something their size.

Today, my husband finished a fort for our kids.  It’s just their size, hidden behind trees and bushes hard to reach for big people.  It’s perfect for little ones, though.  Even better, they got to help build it.  They’re proud of their efforts, jumping in and out of the fort that I can’t enter, adults prohibited due to size and imagination.

This world is big in size and content, forcing children to grow up before their time.  We hurry them out of their cribs, into the next shoe size, car seat, force them to grow out of their youth before they are ready.  This world is too big for them and sometimes they need something that is just their size.

I love watching my kids play, use their imaginations, use their bodies to climb trees, run fast, so fast.  They do so much more than I can do.  I’ve outgrown their world and that makes me sad.  So, I want them to stay in their world as long as they can.  Their world is special, wonderful, perfect for them, for as long as they are in it.

And yes, when it’s time, they will grow up, perfectly, wonderfully.  Until then, let them play in forts and playhouses and in trees and anywhere that is perfectly theirs.  They deserve it.