One of the most endearing things about being a dad is watching my son play. Seeing the smile on his cute little face as he accomplishes some new feat can’t be topped. But you know what quenches that feeling a little? Knowing that I’ve bought him hundreds of dollars worth of toys and he chooses to play with a dish and his high chair. I mean, I’ve bought all those “smart baby” toys, you know the ones. They’re supposed to make your kid smarter, smarter and well, smarter. Some good they do when kids don’t want to play with ‘em. I think for Christmas I’m going to get him a box and a bucket. In all seriousness though, I really don’t mind that he chooses to play with simple objects as opposed to complex gadgets. What that says to me is that he has a vivid imagination and prefers to not be told how to play.
Don’t Tell Me How to Play
