Coming, ready or not.

I’m deeply suspicious of people who play hide and seek with their kids. They make me feel supremely inadequate because I do not play hide and seek or games of any kind with my own children.  Not if I can possibly avoid it.

Is there a word to explain the sinking feeling I get when a child asks me to play?  It’s a heavy mix of guilt and dread that occurs somewhere in my chest and is difficult to flick.

When you’re a kid yourself, this is unfathomable. Why wouldn’t everyone want to play? All the time. Preferably while eating ice cream. However, it’s a rare adult who genuinely enjoys activities designed to amuse 4 year olds. Tea parties? Puzzles? Fairies? Lego? Trains? Ugh.

As a child, I thought the best part of growing up would be having my own money so I could buy lots of dolls. Funnily enough, when I became an adult I didn’t want to. Instead, I spend my cash on things, which didn’t exist back then, like iphone apps and laser hair removal which are, frankly, more diverting than Let’s-Play-Bob-The-Builder-and-Barbie-Get-Married.

Let’s be clear: I love spending time with my kids. I love talking with them and pottering with them and baking with them. I love watching them play. It fills my heart. I just don’t want to play with them.

I’ve always carried the shame that this play aversion is a blight on my parenting credentials. That I’m not a Proper Mother. Worried, I cautiously began asking other mothers if they liked to play. “Hate it,” replied one friend with a seven year old who notes the guilt has eased as her daughter grows up. “We can now watch Masterchef and The Sound Of Music together, take the dog for walks and we share a love of basketball. I’ve never missed one of her games. Her Nana fills in the gaps with gardening and craft activities and her Dad is a builder. He takes her onsite and gives her a hammer and nails so she gets to play while also learning a trade!”

That certainly sounds better than Kerplunk.

Like many, I reserve a particular level of loathing for board games. My friend Kerri articulates it brilliantly. “My son loves Monopoly and because I love him, sometimes I agree to play. It’s excruciating. Firstly, I’m crap at it and can’t suppress my competitiveness for long enough to tolerate being thrashed. Also, it takes 17 hours even if I try to lose. I know I should just enjoy the quality time but there are so many other things I’d rather be doing. Like working. Cleaning. Stabbing myself in the eye.”

MM’s Lana feels the same way and recently wrote this excellent post on her own blog about why exactly she loathes playing board games with her beloved 9 year old:

We recently bought a trampoline. I thought this was genius because the kids could jump on it without my direct involvement. I could spectate. Or write this column. It even had a net around it so they couldn’t fall out and wouldn’t require constant close supervision.

That has to be a winner if you hate playing, right? Bah-BAH (or however you spell the fail sound from a game-show).

A typical exchange goes like this: “Mum, will you come and jump with us on the trampoline?” “No, darling. Mummy doesn’t jump.” It took a few months for that message to get through. Now, we’re at the ‘Watch me, Mum! Mum! You’re not watching! Mum! MUM!” stage. And I’m always torn. Can I bring my phone and look at EBay while I pretend to watch? I mean, I’ve seen them jumping so many times and it’s invariably the same. Up, down etc.

Did our parents feel the need to play with us? Or did they just get on with their lives while we amused each other or – God forbid – OURSELVES.

Nooooooooooooo.

I don’t remember playing board games with my parents, so I checked with my mother who confirmed it. “Oh darling, you never play with your own children, there’s too much else to be done. Grandchildren are for playing with. You have the time then so it’s less of a strain to slip down to their level and do things like spend the afternoon at the park.”

Ah the park. Please don’t make me go there and push a swing. I bumped into a friend last year with her toddler. “I need to get another job,” she said tersely. She’d left her last one 18 months ago when her daughter was born. “If I have to go to one more bloody park, I’m going to lose my mind. It’s death by park!” Yes it is.

“I live less than 20m from a park and the other day I took my three year old son there,” confided another mother who was slightly mortified to realise she’d never done that before even though she is home with him every day. And he’s three. “Oh but his Dad takes him and does all that. We have a great time together but he just potters around playing while I’m working on the computer or cooking. He’s quite independent. I’ve taught him to be that way by not dropping everything to play with him whenever he’s bored. Is that bad?”

Bad? I’m taking notes.

Did your parents play with you when you were a kid? Who did you play with?

If you have kids now, do you like to play? What DO you like to do with your kids?