My daughter Elana is a child play therapist. Her office is just below my kitchen. While I’m checking lettuce for bugs or Googling a recipe, I’ll hear sounds wafting up from below. Scuffling sounds, hee haws of laughter, screams of delight. Feet stomping. What is going on down there? I never ask, and Elana doesn’t tell – patient confidentiality extends to four-year-olds too – but sometimes the office tells the story: a doll shoved into a dryer; sand flung everywhere. (Fine with me, as long as the place gets cleaned.)
The idea behind play therapy is, some feelings are too intense for a child to express in words, but a child’s play can reveal and articulate a world of complex emotions – to one who knows how to observe. Part of me envies my daughter that she gets to heal these kids while also having a blast. At least all those play sounds below remind me to play, too.
