Almost Everything

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.

--William Shakespeare

In the morning the toys are in their place, tidy and organized, lovely to look at.  The toy cars sit next to the trucks.  The wooden pieces are fit together neatly and tucked away.  The straw basket holds all the pretend fruit, the pretend knife placed within reach.  I marvel at this thoughtfully curated set of toys and feel calm.  I anticipate the learning that follows play.

This is before Levi the player enters the stage.  The sound and fury comes and my rose-colored glasses are knocked right off. 

He plays hard, thoroughly and messily.  He scoots around with a toy car in either hand then abandons them.  He tosses dolls and claps his hand on his mouth, feigning surprise at what he just did.  The wooden pieces are slapped apart and shoved under furniture.  The fruit basket is toppled.  Books are picked up, leafed through and discarded on the sofa.  He plays with almost everything.  

His messmaking playing is interrupted only by his nap.  Mealtime means a different sort of mess--viscous, sticky, oozy.   All sorts of tactile and olfactory exploration.  All good, I have to convince myself.

I love watching him deconstruct his toy bins.  I only wish it didn't have to come with the price of a huge mess.  A huge mess that leaves me feeling cranky and disorganized.  A little nuts, maybe.   

I understand that leaving his mess out in the open for the day is actually key to exploration.  Toy cars abandoned under the table are rescued and transported to another area.  Levi learns how cars roll differently in different areas.  A doll hanging precariously off the rocking horse is eventually tipped back the other way and Levi learns all about balance.  If I clean up after him constantly, returning things to the bins, I would be erasing his learning process.  

Think of a learner doing a math problem, showing her thought process on paper.  Erasing the thought process would make the result look a lot tidier, but the learner would not be able to look back and see how she did it.  

So I leave the mess out all day long, moving toys only if it poses a tripping risk.

Sometimes I worry that a visitor will come and judge me as an incompetent mother who is unable to keep her den tidy.  I admit in my pre-Levi days I passed judgement.  Sorry, mamas of the past.  I get it now.