She Was Just Playing… or So I Thought
(Learning Through Play – the quiet kind of learning that sneaks up on you.)
She lined up three wooden animals in a row.
Very slowly.
The elephant, the lion, and the zebra.
Then she scooted back, tilted her head,
and whispered, “They waitin’.”
I didn’t ask what for.
I just sat down beside her.
Because whatever they were waiting for — it mattered to her.
And that was enough.
I used to think “learning” had to be structured.
Flashcards.
Songs that spelled things out.
Baskets labeled with laminated tags.
But then I watched her for twenty quiet minutes
pour pom-poms into a bowl,
spill them,
gather them again,
and pour once more.
No instructions.
No praise.
Just rhythm.
And focus.
And joy.
Now I see play differently.
When she hides the duck in the stacking cup —
that’s problem-solving.
When she gives the lion a tiny hat made of a lid —
that’s imagination.
When she insists on building a tower all by herself —
that’s confidence being built, block by block.
And all I have to do
is stay nearby
and let her lead.
We’ve created a play space that’s simple and open:
A low shelf she can reach on her own
Toys made of wood, cloth, or silicone — easy on her hands and eyes
A wall mirror, so she can see herself play — I didn’t expect how often she’d smile into it
A set of nesting cups, which somehow become everything from soup bowls to space helmets
I rotate a few things every week.
Not to keep it new,
but to keep her curious.
Montessori-Inspired Play Kit
Everything in it is gentle, natural, and open-ended. She decides what it becomes. And that freedom? It’s the best teacher she’s ever had.
Wall-Safe Toddler Mirror
She watches herself stack blocks, smile, try again — and I think: maybe she’s learning what pride looks like.
Sensory Scoop & Pour Set
No lights, no sound, no fuss. Just the pure joy of motion and texture. This is what she plays with when she’s trying to understand the world.
Sometimes, I catch myself stepping in:
“Let me help you stack that,”
or
“Want to build a tower like this?”
And then I remember:
She’s not trying to get it “right.”
She’s trying to feel what it’s like to try.
So I sit on my hands, smile,
and watch her line up her animals again.
And again.
Until she decides they’ve waited long enough.