"Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky..." - I've had this song lyric from Pete Seeger's 1964 track playing in my head as I type this. I was actually surprised at the age of the track because I remember singing along to it when I was at school and the imagery and political comment on middle-class conformity was lost on me at the time. In my head then, I was singing about all different boxes that might have gifts inside or have the potential to become any number of imaginary things if I were to play with them. I mean, who doesn't love a box?
Give a child a good box and they're set up for all sorts of destinations in their mind. I remember one of my son's early Christmas times where he was excited to unwrap everything but not really that bothered by any of the contents. He was happy to play with the discarded wrapping paper and was thrilled by one particularly large box that he could sit in. All the thoughtful gifts were put to one side while he played happily in the box. A lot of money could have been saved really, if he had just been given a series of different sized boxes.
There's a lesson there - the value of play is in being given the space to take your thoughts and simple resources into any direction you choose, rather than a destination set by an adult designer. The early years teacher in me is waving a banner to this but I won't bore you with all the theory behind it. Suffice to say, as an example - a toy kitchen is a kitchen but a couple of plain boxes can be a kitchen, a castle, a spaceship, a shop and so much more, all in a child's imagination.
Why do I bring this up today, for my advent window reveal? Well, I've chosen to share a poem close to my heart that reflects the joy of a child at play but also how the adults don't always see what is going on. The poem is called 'Maisie Jane.'
Maisie Jane
I think that I'm in trouble
for playing in the dirt,
'Cos I'm going to be an astronaut
in a spacesuit, not a skirt.
My teacher stopped me playing -
Called me in to count her blocks,
But I've done counting already
when I found all my space rocks.
She wanted me to help her
make some pattern, don't know why,
It's sad that she can't do it -
She didn't even try.
Then I had to find my name card,
but she knows I'm Maisie-Jane,
I've got my spaceship waiting
when I go outside again.
Argh - I've got to write my name now,
can't I show her over there?
I wrote it in the mud outside
with this twig that's in my hair.
I love twigs and sticks and pebbles,
I collect them every day,
They're my space food and my star tools
when I go back out to play.
Asked if I could make a rocket
and how fast it would go,
But my teacher didn't answer,
she didn't seem to know.
I've got to make a handprint now,
I don't know what that's for,
I want to find a cardboard box
and paint my rocket door.
In my head, I'm counting backwards,
Five, four, three, two, one...
Yes! I'm back in my moon mud pit
before 'tidy-up's' begun.
Karen Honnor - 'Polaroids and Petals.' 2021
If you've got some little ones involved in your festive celebrations this year, I hope you all have fun but also find some space to share the joy of their imaginations. After all, a few little boxes can be anything, can't they?
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