Play is Long

Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
~William Wordsworth

The picture above was taken by my dad when he, my mom, and sister were in town for a visit in August 2009.  On this particular day we visited Paint'n Place.  I remember that we had so much fun that day.  My sister painted a cat to look like her real cat named Zach.  Mer painted an ice cream cone and Miles filled a car with yellow color, his favorite.  It was hot that day and their air conditioning wasn't working as seen in our sweaty faces and big drink cups.

On that day I made this plaque thing seen below.

taken with iphone

That plaque now hangs at work along with other art I am collecting about PLAY.

Today I am feeling cranky.  I stayed up too late on the computer, was awoken by my husband on his way to work to tell me that the kids have ANOTHER snow day so I could turn off my alarm and go back to sleep.  But, of course, I couldn't.  My mind started swirling about how a snow day changes all my plans for the day.  For one, I was going to treat myself to a pedicure at a salon.  Hard thing to do with a 5-year-old around so I'll save that for another day.

For some reason I then remembered the quote above.  I use it in my Lifespan Development class when we cover Socioemotional Development in Early Childhood.  A big part of a preschooler's development is facilitated by play.  The quote above reminds me of those days when I was little and would just play, and play, and play, and play.  Those days seemed to go on forever.  Can you tell I'm missing those days?  I could use a day like that.

Hmmm... perhaps I'll take the kids on a little field trip to paint today.

Here's hoping you have memories where play is long.  I think it's harder for us as adults to capture that feeling.  But we sure can try.

By the way, that quote is part of the poem below.

"To A Butterfly" (1801)

By Williams Wordworth (1770-1850).

I've watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!--not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:--with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

As always your comments are welcome and very much appreciated!