Ishu recently got this take-along tabletop town. He loves taking the cars and trains and scooting them along the built-in road tracks.

In addition to the emergency vehicles, it comes with buildings (e.g. fire station, a bridge, and a city tunnel with a monorail that slides across the top).

Relatively simple stuff, but he seems to love it.

I notice, as he’s playing with it, how he sets it up and plays with it differently. For example, he turns the bridges upside down so they’re standing on two posts instead of on their flat bottom.

He’ll pick up a building and call it the “blue fire station,” despite me calling it the “police station.”

He picks up the fire truck – instead of the helicopter – and pretend it’s flying in the sky.

And I consciously hold myself back.

I don’t correct him and say, “No, that’s a police station, not a blue fire station.” I don’t say, “Fire trucks don’t fly. Helicopters fly.”

Why does it matter that he play the way that I deem is appropriate? Why should it matter that he call each thing by its “correct” name.

He’ll figure things out with time.

But if I try to correct him during his imaginative play, what kind of lesson does that teach him? That there’s a ‘right’ way and a ‘wrong’ way to play with your toys?

I don’t want him to feel nervous about trying new things, wondering if he’s doing it “the right way.”

And I definitely don’t want to squash his creativity.

I don’t imagine he’s going to be a 30-year old, standing at the edge of the road, wondering when that fire truck is gonna sprout its wings and fly over the cars on the freeway. (And also, who knows? Maybe that’s a thing that’ll happen in his lifetime. Ha).

I know sometimes we feel like we should make everything a “learning opportunity.” That playtime can and should be a “teaching moment.” But there are SO MANY other times throughout the day we can teach our kids new words or teach them how to use something. We don’t always need to be doing that. Especially not during their imaginative, independent play.

So, do yourself a favor and step back from the kid and the choo-choo-train that is somehow scaling the side of the building. Let it happen.

They’re learning how to be creative. But they’re also learning so much more.