The Power of Play

Today, my son had me backed against the wall—literally. "ONE..." he counted with exaggerated slowness as my thighs burned in a wall sit. "TWO..." he continued with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying his temporary power as my martial arts instructor. When he finally reached "TEN," about thirty seconds later than he should have, I collapsed dramatically to the floor. He smiled and said, ‘I am proud of you’.

Later, when we were sparring, I broke into an impromptu chicken dance, squawking instead of blocking his punch. His laughter filled our kitchen as he demonstrated the "correct" technique, standing taller with each movement he taught me. Today, I was terrible at martial arts, but I was great at making my teenager laugh. And that felt great.

This moment of connection can be contrasted with so many other occasions when I get nothing more than a monosyllable or a grunt as answers to my questions. What happened to my eloquent, chatty, multi-lingual child? Where did all his words go? Into teenage land apparently. I've found myself frustrated, hurt, and occasionally thinking, "Don't I deserve better than this? Haven't I earned more respect after all these years?"

I have to remind myself that connection with my teen isn't something they owe me—it's something I need to continually rebuild. This is a fact, I think, in all relationships but particularly those were we hold more power in some way. And play is the MOST powerful tool for reestablishing those connections.

When we play together, something magical happens. The tension that often sits between us dissolves in shared laughter. I stop being just the rule-enforcer, and my teen stops being the rule-challenger. We both relax into versions of ourselves that are more open and less defensive.

Play creates a safe space for vulnerability. When you laugh you feel safe. You feel able to share, to connect. Laughter open spaces for conversations – we have tackled the most thorny and embarrassing subjects after some playing and with some jokes in the middle to allow tensions to dissipate.

What I find most fascinating is how play flips our usual roles. Play deletes hierarchies. When my teen teaches me—whether it's martial arts techniques, video game strategies, or explaining the latest social media trends—I see them light up with confidence and pride. These moments when they get to be the expert give me precious glimpses into the incredible person they're becoming. I see their patience, their teaching skills, their humour, and their knowledge in new ways.

It is key for me to make the first move to start playing. I need to ask for a turn in video games that I would never play on my own… or create a silly challenge, or ask for help in martial arts and commit to being a student rather than a teacher. I need to follow them into their interests to make that connection. Sometimes I'm genuinely interested in what we're doing; sometimes I'm just interested in them. Either way, the connection happens.

Maintaining our connection through these years, I realise, is not something my teen needs, or can, always meet me halfway on—it's my job as the parent. And when I am teaching young people, it is my job as an educator.

So, I'll keep making a fool of myself in martial arts sessions, losing spectacularly at video games, and dancing badly in the kitchen. Because with each laugh we share, each role reversal we experience, we're rebuilding the long-lasting connections and which will support him during difficult times.