Let’s get one thing straight: it’s not entirely his fault.
My son has always had a sister, just a year younger, to keep him company. He’s never experienced life without a partner in crime to run around with, pretend play alongside, or get into trouble with. So, I get it. I truly do. But then there’s his sister, who can effortlessly disappear into her room to play with her dolls without needing any encouragement at all. If she can entertain herself, why can’t he? Well, the answer remains elusive, and I could dissect the reasons for his lack of independent play until the cows come home, but it doesn’t change the fact that having a child who can’t amuse himself is really exhausting.
Perhaps the most challenging part is when I hear his sad little voice wailing, “No one will play with me.” Those words pierce my heart, and guilt rushes in like an unwelcome guest. I have perfectly valid reasons for being occupied—housework, work-work, phone calls, cooking, and even just trying to keep my sanity intact. Yet, when my beloved son looks so forlorn, asking for just a bit of company, it’s hard not to feel the crushing weight of mom guilt.
I’ve attempted to introduce activities that might spark his interest in independent play: coloring, Play-Doh, puzzles, toy cars, and building blocks. He enjoys these for a fleeting moment before asking, “Mom, will you play with me?” and my answer of “Not right now, sweetie” doesn’t go down well. He doesn’t seem to grasp that sometimes I need a moment to breathe or that playing alone can actually be a blast—no need to share or take turns!
But alas, these concepts are lost on him; he’s just a little boy who prefers companionship, and it’s draining for me.
I engage with him as much as I can. I dive into endless discussions with stuffed animals, roll balls back and forth, and join him on his imaginative escapades in blanket forts. I truly love him, and I want him to feel cherished, but after nearly five years of motherhood, saying “no” to my child’s request for attention remains a tough challenge, especially when other tasks compete for my time.
I want him to understand that he is loved, interesting, and a joy to be around, but I also need him to discover how to be alone—to think his own thoughts and find joy in independence. However, how do you teach a toddler to enjoy solitude when they’re so accustomed to having a playmate? When your heart longs for laughter and someone to talk to, how do you find peace in silence?
I know he needs to develop his independent play skills. I recognize that I can’t always drop everything to join him in pirate battles. I understand his sister needs her space, and I can’t force her to play. But how do you navigate the guilt that comes from telling your child you’re too busy for a game? The balance is still a mystery to me, and honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I can endure building blocks.
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In summary, it’s a juggling act trying to balance a child’s need for play and a parent’s need for space. While I cherish my time with my son, I also hope he learns to enjoy his own company and thrive in independence.