Wait! Before you hit the back button, I've got something new for you.

Yes, we're talking about open-ended play and, yes, you've heard it a million times before - but not like this.

This isn't another article telling you to just leave your child to explore independently using wooden blocks and everyday materials you can find around the home. It's time for some original research and invigorating ideas.

A quiet moment

Here is my second son.

He's not quite five.

And he is absorbed. Maybe even obsessed.

Back from school, the long afternoon stretches out before him. He's full of energy - the kind of boy who never stops. As a toddler he was covered in bruises from barrelling along, crashing into things, making and breaking.

But not today.

Because this is his métier. He loves to build. More importantly, he loves to imagine.

Look carefully and you’ll see that his ramshackle construction is nothing of the sort. The higgledy-piggledy blocks have a purpose.

Psst! I have an idea!

Something is whispering to him.

It’s a voice in his head. From a brain network scientists have only recently discovered.

The brain's hidden choreography

Open-ended play is any activity where your child decides what to do and how to do it. These games have no fixed ending and no ‘right’ answer.

Think blocks, dolls, vehicles - or even sticks and stones. The play can take any direction your child chooses.

So far, so familiar, right?

But there’s more going on beneath the surface.

Neuroscience has now revealed the underlying mechanism that powers this quintessential type of play: the brain networks.

The Default Mode Network (DMN). Go outside and look up at the sky. Let the clouds drift in and out of view. It won’t be long before you’re daydreaming. Your mind isn’t engaged in a specific task so it ‘defaults’ to the Default Mode Network, the part of your brain responsible for imagination. Only discovered in 2001, this network sits in the background, waiting to light up when task-focused regions switch off. The DMN is at work when your child pauses, mid-build, to think about what direction her construction will take next.

The Task Positive Network (TPN), as its name suggests, is responsible for getting things done. The DMN has the idea; the TPN follows the instructions and finishes the job.

The Executive Control Network (ECN) is the brain’s management system during play. It helps your child hold onto her goals (like the vision of a finished tower), adapt her approach when things don’t go to plan, resist distractions or frustration, and monitor progress as she builds. The ECN enables her to switch strategies flexibly: if the blocks topple, she finds a new way to stack them; if something doesn’t fit, she tries another approach. These self-regulation and problem-solving skills are still developing in childhood, which is why sustaining focus and managing challenges can be difficult for younger children.

The Salience Network is your child’s interest detector. Constantly scanning, it decides what’s exciting enough to pursue and when to switch between imagining and doing.

Children move naturally through this loop: dream (DMN) → notice (Salience) → act (TPN), with the ECN keeping them on track. Each cycle strengthens their ability to switch between imagination and focused action - a foundation for problem-solving and self-regulation.

It’s easy to see how learning to co-ordinate these networks is vital for success both at school and in later life.

Fortunately, the best way to train them is through open-ended play.

And open-ended play is fun.

The surprising scaffold

Here's where it gets really interesting. Recent research reveals that in children's developing brains, the imagination network (DMN) is matures more quickly than the executive network (ECN).

You might think that pausing in the middle of play to come up with more ideas would be distracting but that’s not what happens. Instead, the Default Mode Network holds the immature Executive Network’s hand while it learns to focus.

By giving your child the time and space to encounter boredom - and imagine ways to conquer it - you are training her executive functions. She stays on task, follows the plan and a virtuous cycle begins. Each time she plays, her self-regulation improves.

More play, less frustration = a happier, calmer child.

From everyday play to innovation

So what was my son building that day after school? And why was he so inspired?

It all started with a ball track. Fun, but not particularly creative: open the box, connect the pieces, roll the ball. A classic Task Positive Network activity.

But next time the ball track came out, his Default Mode Network had plans of its own. All kinds of wooden blocks were recruited to add height and variety - and no small measure of challenge. This kind of see-how-far-I-can-push-the-laws-of-physics construction play is called ‘stunt building’. When basic block play gets old, pushing the boundaries is how you keep it fun.

A tip for buying blocks: For maximum play potential, get a variety of shapes and sizes. Longer blocks and boards are particularly useful because they enable your child to span gaps and create openings, greatly increasing the number of forms. Better yet, augment your set and get the DMN firing by introducing everyday objects with useful properties. For example books, tape and cardboard tubes extend what’s possible in fun and interesting ways.

Back to my son, who wasn’t quite finished.

That voice in his head was whispering again.

Could you build a marble run without using any track? Could you? I dare you.

Challenge accepted!

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course.

His Default Mode Network simply provided a flash of inspiration.

But which blocks to choose?

The Salience Network, his brain’s “interest detector”, snaps to attention. It’s always on the lookout for something new, something relevant.

Look! Look! Steps!, it calls.

Perfect! What better way roll a marble downhill?

But the marble fell off. There were no guard rails.

Time for his Salience Network to notice something else - the lower part of his construction had a wall on one side and this kept the marble on course. What if he built a new track with walls on both sides?

A marble run where the ball can’t escape, you say? That’s a job for the Default Mode Network!

Even better, if you really don’t want the marble to escape, why not put on a roof?

Looking at the partially covered track, another idea presents itself.

The DMN is whispering again.

Even better, make it a secret track. Drop the marble in at the start and watch it magically appear at the other end.

It was a week’s worth of fun.

He came back every day, bursting with ideas on how to improve it.

My role? To leave his construction alone - and to protect it from rampaging toddlers.

His brain networks took care of the rest.

Flow: when play becomes timeless

Call me selfish but I love it when my children spend hours lost in play.

All sense of time goes. It’s what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi dubbed a flow state.

Flow happens when challenge and skill are perfectly matched. The task is hard - but not so hard it breaks the spell. In those moments, the Task Positive Network takes the lead: focused, absorbed, steady.

Research shows that it’s unstructured free play - not organised sport or adult-led activities - that most reliably creates these states because it’s a challenge your child set for herself.

As parents, we can’t force flow - all we can do is offer the right conditions:

• Time. Long stretches without interruption.

• Space. A corner to spread out and make a mess.

• Trust. Confidence to let the play unfold without asking, “What are you making?”

It doesn’t always work, but we’re establishing the conditions for the right kind of play - and that can only be a good thing.

The long view: building brains for an unknown future

How has AI affected you over the past two years?

If you work in a hospital or a school you may not have noticed much of a change yet but if you’re a marketer or an accountant, your world has probably been turned upside down.

With robots and self-driving cars now on the horizon, the pace of change doesn’t look like it will be slowing down.

What kind of world will your child inhabit - and how can you prepare her for it?

These are difficult questions.

One thing’s for sure, though. You won’t be encouraging her to pursue a career in data entry or driving a taxi. Anything a computer can do is now off-limits.

So what’s left?

Being human.

Your child will succeed because she will excel at what only people can do - make friends, persuade, inspire and lead. Empathy will become a superpower.

Above all, she will triumph because of her imagination. No computer could ever compete because her ideas are rooted in direct experience.

And she will do all of this because when she was young, you made time and space for open-ended play.

Final word

The more time you make for open-ended play, the more creative and persistent your child becomes.

This is why I don’t like screens (though I do, hypocritically, give them to my children when I need peace and quiet to work): like the ‘empty calories’ of a sugary drink when you could have had an apple, not only are they harmful but you’re also missing out on the good stuff.

Like a delicate flower, open-ended play needs the right conditions to grow: long stretches, simple materials, few interruptions, generous boredom.

The rest is your child’s brain doing what it was built for: dream, notice, do.

Read next: Games with rules · Unsupervised play

Imagine this:

Your child has a whole afternoon ahead of her.

No planned activities. No screens. No one telling her what to do.

What happens next?

Does she leap into a project, get lost in play, and completely forget the time?

Or does she trail after you, saying, “I’m bored,” waiting for someone else to entertain her?

The difference isn’t personality - it’s practice.

Children who know how to make their own fun have built the habit of self-starting. They trust themselves to turn boredom into something interesting.

And that’s a skill that can be taught.

What is a creative self-starter?

A creative self-starter is a child who:

• Doesn’t wait to be entertained.

• Has a store of ideas and activities she can turn to.

• Follows her curiosity without needing permission.

• Gets absorbed in projects - sometimes for hours.

These are children who don’t rely on screens, schedules, or constant parental input.

Why self-directed play matters

A child who learns to make her own fun is building independence, problem-solving skills, perseverance, and creativity. She discovers how to begin something without waiting for an adult, finds ways to work with the materials she has, and learns to keep going even when things are difficult. Over time she becomes used to experimenting, inventing, and taking risks. In this way, play becomes practice for life. Children who trust their own creativity grow into resilient, adaptable, and self-motivated adults.

Why some children struggle to self-start

If your child often relies on you to suggest activities, it is not because she isn’t capable. It may be because:

1. She has never had to practise. If adults always step in, she lacks experience.

2. Screens have replaced boredom. Boredom is where creativity begins, but screens remove the need to push through that uncomfortable moment.

3. Her play environment is not set up for independence. If she can’t reach what she needs, she will wait for help.

4. She doubts her own ability. Self-starting is a mindset that only grows with practice.

Five ways to raise a child who makes her own fun

1. Let her experience boredom - without rescuing her

Boredom is not a problem to be solved. It’s the starting point of creativity.

The next time your child complains, "I’m bored," resist the urge to suggest something. Instead, say, "I wonder what you’ll come up with?"

She may struggle at first - but this is where self-starting begins.

I won’t pretend this is easy. If you walk past my house on a summer’s day, when the windows are open and all the children are stuck at home while I write these newsletters, you’ll hear a lot of whining.

Dad, I’m bored!

Dad, can we have screens?

Most of the time, I don’t answer. But, occasionally, if they pester me enough, you’ll hear my voice rise above the cacophony:

Go away and find something to do.

That’s about as much help as I’m prepared to give them these days. They have no excuse. They’ve had the benefit of me exposing them to all kinds of creative endeavours, from woodwork to sewing, baking and print-making.

Now it’s up to them.

NOTE: I probably have a higher tolerance for aggravation than most parents. My wife doesn’t like it when tensions rise. But I know that if I let the children complain and bicker for a few minutes, they’ll eventually back down and start to play.

Why do you always ask me? she asks them, exhausted by their demands. Why not Daddy?

Because Daddy says ‘no’.

I watch them go through the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. It’s the same every time.

Try it yourself. Try it today.

Hold your nerve. Your child will accept her fate (though it might take 20 minutes of tears, first time round).

And then life gets easier.

2. Give her a rich mental library of stories and games

A child who knows playground games, rhymes, and traditional stories has a deep well of ideas to draw from.

• Playground games. What’s the time, Mr Wolf? Duck, Duck, Goose.

• Songs and rhymes. Skipping chants, clapping games, tongue twisters.

• Stories. Fairy tales, myths, and folktales that fuel imaginative play.

• Memory and word games. Riddles, hand-clapping patterns, simple challenges.

By far the most powerful thing you can do for your child is to read to her. Nothing else stands in for it. In my own family, I can see the difference between the children who enjoyed endless bedtime stories and those who, for reasons beyond their control, missed out on that routine. And as a teacher, I saw the same pattern year after year: the children who were read to at home flourished.

3. Give her a place to make a mess

Have a corner of your home where spills are tolerated.

We once lived in a rented flat with three children under three where the carpets were immaculate (and the landlord was fastidious) so I do understand that this is easier said than done.

During those years, I relied heavily on a builder’s tray that we kept in the kitchen for all our messy and sensory play and a big roll of old wallpaper that I used to cover up the kitchen table. And we had a lot of water play in the bathroom and at the sink.

It wasn’t how I’d pictured my children’s early years before I got married. There was no idyllic garden full of natural wonder. But they did, at least, have the freedom to make and to break.

Best of all, they had a space to be themselves, to follow their instincts, to create.

And they learnt to play alone - and that it was OK.

4. Make supplies accessible

Do you ration the paints? The glue? The tissue paper?

Some materials are special - and expensive - and we’ve all seen preschoolers on the rampage, free-pouring PVA onto the table or cutting through five sheets of paper at once.

You had such high hopes for those materials!

But if your child has to ask every time she wants paper or glue, it’s hard for her to get into a creative flow. Worse, how can she become a self-starter if she always needs you to start.

Instead:

• Store craft materials where she can reach them.

• Organise toys so she can see what is available.

• Create readymade play kits - boxes of materials that go together naturally:

  • needles, thread, buttons and felt;

  • batteries, wires and motors;

  • junk materials, masking tape and markers.

In short, get a craft trolley. Buy one from IKEA. They’re ugly, but cheap. You won’t mind it being destroyed.

And don’t worry about buying the fanciest craft materials. Your child will be delighted with old magazines to cut out and free access to PVA and the recycling box.

No need to overcomplicate things:

Pencils, paper, scissors, glue. There’s a lifetime of learning right there.

5. Step back - even when you want to step in

Your child needs space to work things out. The moment you intervene, you interrupt her thinking process.

Instead of offering a solution, wait.

If she’s really stuck, ask a question.

Daddy, there’s a gap at the bottom of my house. The stick isn’t long enough.

Hmm. We don’t have any longer sticks. What else could you do? What happens if you close the gap at the bottom?

That works, but now the roof is too wide. Wait! I can make the roof fit by making it more pointy!

Hooray!

This gives her ownership of the solution - and confidence to start again next time.

What self-starting looks like in real life

One day I asked my 11-year-old:

"If you had to spend every afternoon in your room, without screens or books, what hobby would you start?"

Blank stare.

But my younger children had answers immediately:

• “Carry on building my wargaming board.”

• “Write a comic.”

My eldest needed a nudge. We talked about a recent trip to the Small is Beautiful exhibition in London, where he had seen miniature buildings. For a week afterwards, he was absorbed in making tiny paper houses.

It didn’t last forever. But for those seven days, he was completely lost in play - without screens, without me, without needing to be told what to do.

That is the goal.

The moment you know your child is a creative self-starter

You glance at the clock. It is seven o’clock and dinner is late. But it doesn’t matter - your child hasn’t noticed.

She is so deep in play, so absorbed in her project, that she has forgotten to ask for a screen.

You make a simple supper, pour a hot chocolate, and smile.

She is happy. You are happy.

And best of all, she got there on her own.

Start today. Choose one small way to encourage self-starting - set up a space, step back, or let boredom happen.

And watch what unfolds.

My wife and I shelter from the wind behind a rock but the children, oblivious to the subtle charms of a Cornish summer, don’t notice.

Below us on the sand, they’re deep in debate.

"You can't change the rules halfway through!" my second son protests, indignantly.

"We're not changing them, we're improving them."

My daughter argues her case with lawyer-like precision. But the boys are older and often pull rank. She doesn’t always ‘win’, even when she’s right.

“Look - if you get tagged whilst carrying the shell, you have to do three jumping jacks before you can rejoin your team. That's fair.”

They’re reinventing that old playground classic, ‘Stuck in the mud’, and so far they’ve spent more time negotiating than actually playing.

"But what if you're already in a safe zone when you get the shell?"

"Then you get three seconds to decide - stay safe or make a run for it."

The debate continues for twenty minutes. Complex negotiations unfold about boundary lines, team switching, and what constitutes a fair tag.

I check the time. We have to go.

But the game hasn’t got going yet. Can I really spoil the fun? So much good learning is taking place. Away from the pressures of home, with confined spaces and hours spent in the car on the school run, the boys are letting go of their need to dominate. They listen to the girls. They relax. And a deeper, richer world of play opens up.

If we wait any longer, the fish and chip van will be closed and we’ll be eating supermarket pizza - again.

But this is an opportunity I won’t miss.

Playtime, interrupted

Do you remember your school days? Those endless lunch breaks when the play seemed to go on for hours.

But the lesson bell always came.

“Oh! We were just getting started!”

“You can carry on tomorrow,” the teacher on duty would say. But we all knew the moment had passed.

Your carefully constructed game dissolved as you lined up for class, your elaborate social experiment abandoned.

And so the playground empties, leaving behind only the ghost of something that was once the most important work of childhood - learning to be human through play.

Childhood can’t do its job

Here’s what we rarely admit: we have dismantled childhood, piece by piece. Not through neglect or cruelty, but through love and good intentions - our drive to optimise, protect, and enrich every waking moment.

Evolutionary psychologist Peter Gray puts it bluntly: “Children are designed, by nature, to play and explore on their own, independently of adults. They need freedom in order to develop; without it they suffer.”

Yet somewhere along the way, we decided that childhood was too important to leave to children. We scheduled it, supervised it, structured it - and in the process, we may have weakened the very foundation on which capable adulthood is built.

Play is a biological drive

The drive to play freely is a basic, biological drive. Lack of free play may not kill the physical body, as would lack of food, air, or water, but it kills the spirit and stunts mental growth.

Peter Gray

Studies comparing children’s freedom across decades show that the “roaming radius” - how far children can travel from home unsupervised - has shrunk by 90% since the 1970s.

We’ve created the safest generation of children in history. Yet childhood anxiety and depression rates have soared.

Children who experience primarily adult-directed activities show:

• Reduced executive function - they're less able to set and achieve goals independently

• Increased anxiety - they haven't learned to navigate uncertainty and conflict

• Diminished creativity - they wait for instructions rather than generating solutions

• Poor risk assessment - they either take dangerous risks or become paralysed by minor challenges

Meanwhile, children who have regular access to free play develop:

• Self-regulation - the ability to manage emotions and behaviour without external control

• Social competence - skill at reading social cues and negotiating relationships

• Resilience - experience bouncing back from failure and disappointment

• Intrinsic motivation - the capacity to engage deeply with activities they find meaningful

The price of protection

When I turned ten, I was allowed to make short journeys on my own. I walked to school, taking my younger sister with me. I played tennis with my friends. I had pocket money for sweets: Flying Saucers, Black Jacks and Drumsticks.

Those were good times.

Best of all, I was allowed to stop at the park after school.

Can you imagine my excitement the first time we had deep snow?

We threw snowballs for hours and, before we knew it, the sun was setting. Time for home.

My friends went one way; I went the other.

The pond had frozen over and there were a few brave children standing tentatively around its perimeter - close enough to leap for dry land in case of mishap.

Looks pretty solid to me, I thought. I’ll walk across.

Now, of course, my parents had warned me many times not to do anything as stupid as this. But I was ten and I thought I knew better.

Halfway across. So far, so good.

Then I noticed a hole in the ice. Only three or four feet wide.

No problem. I’ll leap over it.

Easy for a big boy like me. And in one great bound I was on the other side.

But ice around a hole is paper thin.

With an awful, terrifying crack, I was through it and into the water. Worse, my forward motion was taking me under the ice rather than straight down. I was going to find myself several feet past the opening, trapped under an impenetrable shelf.

My feet slid under, then my legs. It happened in the blink of an eye. Before I could think, my whole body was submerged, the ice pushing me down.

Is this the end for Rocky and Bullwinkle?

(I’ve always wanted to write a cliff-hanger, but you rarely get the chance with Early Years blogs…)

Just as my chin entered the water, my arm caught the edge and I was saved.

Hasta luego, Grim Reaper.

Davy Jones’ locker can wait.

The walk home in the dark was excruciating. I’ve never been so cold.

And I bet you can imagine my mum’s face when she opened the door…

Grounded?

To my parents’ eternal credit, I wasn’t grounded.

I’d learnt my lesson and the next day I was back out in the snow.

It must have been tempting to keep me home, to keep me safe.

But that ‘safety’ is paradoxical: the more we try to protect our children, the more vulnerable they become. When we remove risk and problems and conflict, we deny them the chance to develop the tools to resolve these difficulties by themselves.

Gray argues that "nothing that we do, no amount of toys we buy or 'quality time' or special training we give our children, can compensate for the freedom we take away. The things that children learn through their own initiatives, in free play, cannot be taught in other ways."

We’ve forgotten what made our own childhood so special - and the skills it gave us to develop into capable adults.

What did your childhood teach you?

Think back to your own early years. What do you remember most vividly - the structured activities your parents arranged, or the adventures you invented with other children when adults weren’t watching?

I’m all in favour of piano lessons and after-school gymnastics. But break them open and you won’t find ‘childhood’ inside.

No, the real magic happened when you vanished for hours, wrestling with social problems without adult referees, taking the physical and emotional risks that come with true independence.

Can you imagine granting your child that kind of freedom today?

How parents make space for unsupervised play

If unsupervised play is so vital, how can you give your child more of it - in a world that seems designed to eliminate it? Here are some simple starting points:

• Create pockets of time. Protect at least a few unstructured hours each week where there’s no scheduled activity, no agenda, and no hovering adult.

• Widen the boundaries. If roaming the neighbourhood isn’t possible, expand freedom within safe limits: the garden, the local park, or even a corner of the house you deliberately leave “adult-free.”

• Resist the urge to step in. Arguments, squabbles, and negotiations are the curriculum of unsupervised play. Unless safety is at risk, hold back.

• Value boredom. When children complain they have nothing to do, see it as the threshold of creativity rather than a problem to fix.

• Model trust. Tell your child explicitly: “I trust you to work it out.” Those words give her confidence and permission to take ownership.

Reclaiming freedom

My second son is walking home from school today for the first time.

It’s a mix of nerves and excitement - for both of us.

Like the heroes of my favourite book as child, Bears in the Night, he has to go: down the hill, under the road, across the bridge, around the lake, through the streets, into the door - and back to bed (OK, not into bed. Those bears were out past their bedtime).

There’s no spooky owl to send him scampering - though there are all kinds of other dangers on a London street. But I can’t protect him forever. As Alison Gopnik says, in The Gardener and the Carpenter:

Part of the pathos, but also the moral depth, of being a parent is that a good parent creates an adult who can make his own choices, even disastrous choices. A secure, stable childhood allows children to explore, to try entirely new ways of living and being, to take risks. And risks aren’t risks unless they can come out badly. If there isn’t some chance that our children will fail as adults, then we haven’t succeeded as parents.

He’s ready.

It’s time.

(But, I have to admit, I’m glad it’s September so the pond won’t be frozen over!)

A play companion for babies

Babies are cute - but they're not that interesting. At least that's what I thought before I took my masters. I didn't have children of my own at the time so my experience of them was limited - but how wrong I was!

In my first few years of teaching, I struggled. After an initial shock, behaviour management wasn't a problem - male teachers get an easier ride - but I always felt I was missing a piece of the developmental jigsaw. I'd switched to teaching after taking law as an undergrad and the year-long post-grad was light on theory. I knew what to do but I had no idea why.

I still squirm to think back to those first parents' evenings after I'd qualified. I was like a politician trying to filibuster, running down the clock before they could ask me any difficult questions.

That all changed once I studied babies.

Babies taught me to see.

School-age children are just too complicated. There's so much going on, so much is interconnected. Their actions have become integrated.

But babies are simpler. their actions more straightforward. They spend their first year trying to escape the embrace of their primitive reflexes and bring their bodies under voluntary control. And as they control their limbs and start to interact with the world around them, so too do they

The Wonder Year will be an occasional series. I'll publish posts whenever they support an idea we're exploring in Start with the Child, our toddler newsletter. But, over time, I hope to start writing weekly.

The newsletter is included with a paid Substack subscription.

Even if your child is beyond her first year, the series will give you a window into her developing mind.

Look out for the first issue next week.

I hope you enjoy it.

I don’t know about you, but I often feel like I’m fighting a losing battle with screens.

They’re shiny, quick, and always available. They give children what they want in an instant. Meanwhile, play – the very thing that helps them grow into curious, creative, independent people – sometimes struggles to compete.

The good news? We don’t have to rely on sheer willpower, either theirs or ours. We can borrow some tools from a surprising place: behavioural economics.

It’s the science of how people really make decisions. Not the tidy, rational version, but the messy, human one. And when we design the environment with that in mind, play suddenly becomes the easy, obvious choice.

Here are eight ideas, each with a simple experiment you can try at home.

1. Commitment devices

We behave better when we’ve already promised in advance - but how that looks depends on age.

• For over fives. Make a public pledge. Mark “Screen-Free Saturday” or “Play First After School” on the family calendar. Once it’s there in black and white, it becomes the default expectation. Children this age can hold tomorrow in mind, so the promise carries weight.

• For under fives. Think rituals, not promises. They live in the moment, so the commitment has to be built into the routine. Try a special play basket that only comes out at a set time. “After breakfast, we open the basket of blocks” (or the toy farm, or the doll’s house - whatever she loves). The ritual itself is the commitment, and the environment holds it in place.

Try this: Mark your pledge on the calendar, or set out a basket that only appears at a fixed time each day.

2. Loss aversion

We hate losing more than we like gaining.

That’s why adults keep up a streak of daily runs, Duolingo lessons, or even Wordle wins - we don’t want to “lose” the progress we’ve made. For older children, a “play streak” chart can work in the same way: each screen-free day earns a star, and the thought of breaking the chain is motivating.

With younger children, though, this is much harder to pull off. They don’t yet have the executive function skills to think ahead and feel the sting of losing something abstract, like a future reward or a broken streak. To them, it can easily feel like punishment. In these cases, it’s usually better to rely on other nudges - quick-start activities, choice limitation, or social proof - that make play feel immediately rewarding rather than dependent on distant goals.

Try this: Use streaks with older children, but for younger ones choose nudges that deliver instant rewards, like a quick-start basket.

3. Present bias

We grab what’s most rewarding right now. Screens are designed for this.

Try this: Create a “quick-start basket” of activities that need no prep – pens and paper, a puzzle, a ball. Place it exactly where your child usually reaches for a device. When play feels just as immediate, the choice shifts.

Note: This is where invitations to play shine. Set up an enticing scene - however small - and watch your child become captivated by the story. A couple of strands of red and white wool might be all it takes. Where invitations go wrong is when you spend too long setting them up. Instead, see them as a quick, throwaway experiment. Does my child engage with this? If not, ditch it and move on to something else. You are teaching your child to see the fun and possibility in everything so failures still count as wins.

4. Social proof

We copy what others do. Children especially.

My daughter has never been very confident with maths. She needs more practice with her number bonds, but worksheets make her anxious. So one afternoon I sit at the table with a pile of receipts, pretending to do my “accounts.”

The numbers are small and, by some miracle, they all seem to add up neatly to ten or twenty. £5 + £5 for stationery. £6 + £4 + £7 + £3 for subscriptions. When I get stuck, I start counting on my fingers.

(Never underestimate how credulous a five-year-old can be!)

What are you doing, Daddy?

I’m doing my accounts. Look, these are all the things I’ve bought this month, and I have to check the totals.

Can I help?

Of course! This one’s tricky. I’ve got £6, £4, £7 and £3. I need to know how much that makes altogether but I don’t have enough fingers.

I know, Daddy! You can use those blocks.

How did they get there? And what do I do with them? I’ve never tried using counting blocks before.

Don’t worry, Daddy, I can show you!

And just like that, the fear disappears. Maths isn’t a worksheet or a test - it’s something you see your dad doing at the kitchen table.

In the words of Han Solo:

Sometimes I amaze even myself…

But really, this is social proof at its simplest. Children believe what they see. When you treat number bonds, drawing, or play as part of everyday life, they want in. And the more they join you, the more confident they become.

Try this: Next time you want your child to practise something - whether it’s drawing, building, or even maths - start doing it yourself in plain sight. Keep it simple, keep it playful, and wait for her to ask: “Can I help?”

Read more

This crown is a fake! It's not made of real gold! But how can I prove it?

Send for Archimedes!

The Greek mathematician and philosopher sank lower into his bath and pondered the king's question.

And as he did so, he noticed the water level rise.

Eureka! he cried. And leapt out.

And, depending on which version of the story you believe, he ran naked down the st…

Read more

Why am I here? Why am I doing this to myself?

I'm wearing shorts and a singlet. It's February and the mud is knee deep.

Correction. The mud will be knee deep once it thaws. Right now, it's frozen solid in ankle-turning ruts.

I'm standing at the foot of Parliament Hill in London and it's the National Cross Country Championships.

As I wait for the starting gu…

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You've seen them before - the quiet rituals of childhood. The stacking. The scattering. The careful line of pebbles on a wall. These aren't random patterns - they're purposeful explorations. This guide helps you recognise what your child is really working on.

I'm two years old and I'm walking along the edge of the kerb.

My arms are out to the side and I'm 

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On my first day of teaching, I thought I was ready.

Then I met the children.

As Mike Tyson famously said: Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.

I don't remember ever being punched - though I did get a few kicks in the shin and the occasional pinch. But the biggest injury was to my pride.

I thought I knew what I was doing.

But at the end of …

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Forget what you've seen on Pinterest, fine motor control is not about tracing letters in sand and picking up pom poms with tongs. Your child craves meaningful activities to develop real-world skills. Better for her; easier for you. What's not to like?

Sam's trying to peel a sticker off its backing sheet.

He's using both hands - one to hold the sheet still…

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When children become the keepers of fair play

Alice stands at the edge of the meadow, arms folded, frowning at a row of overturned buckets.

They're meant to be hurdles. But Sam keeps knocking them over on purpose, laughing as he runs through them instead of jumping.

"It's not fair," Alice sighs. "The younger children always mess it up."

Her friend Leila shr…

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Get more play from less doing.

Am I doing enough?
Am I doing it right?

It’s easy to feel like you’re always falling short. Screens, small spaces, constant noise – modern life makes it hard to give your child what she really needs: time to think, to explore, and to play.

StoryChild is your weekly nudge to step back – and let her step up.
Each issue is packed …

Read more

Spring to School is the newsletter for the preschool years, when your child is 3 or 4 and attending nursery. It follows Sam and his friends as they prepare for school through meaningful, play-based activities. Read the introduction here.

The problem: frustration at the kitchen table

It’s a sunny morning in Elmwood, and Sam (3 years, 7 months) is sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, holding up his latest masterpiece. Three big circles fill the page. Two have dots inside. One does not.

“The big one is you,” he tells his dad. “The little one is me. And that’s the sun.” He’s drawn lines radiating out from all three - arms and legs for the people, rays for the sun.

Thomas smiles and crouches beside him. “It’s beautiful, Sam. Shall we write your name at the bottom?”

Sam hesitates. “I don’t know how.”

“You could try,” Thomas suggests. “S-A-M.”

Sam frowns, takes the pencil, and makes a tentative mark. But the curve goes the wrong way. His ‘S’ starts at the left and loops over to the right, instead of curling back. He tries again, but the lines wobble.

Thomas starts to make a suggestion, and this time it's not the lines that are the problem. Sam's confidence - and bottom lip - start to wobble too.

Time to ease off...

Just then, his mother, Rachel, walks in. “What’s wrong, Sam?”

“I can’t write my name!” he cries.

Rachel kneels beside him and gently takes his hand. “It is a tricky one,” she says. “That ‘S’ is especially hard - your hand wants to go the other way.”

She reaches into the craft trolley and brings out a small box of colourful matchsticks.

“Let’s try it this way instead.”

She lays out one stick. “Here’s the top line.”

Then another: “And which way do we go down?” Sam points. “Yes, that side.” One more stick, angled to the left. “And now across.”

A familiar shape begins to appear. No pencil. No struggle. Just quiet satisfaction.

Writing letters with a pencil asks too much of Sam right now. The curves of an ‘S’, the angles of an ‘A’, the peaks and points of an ‘M’ – they all demand more hand control than he yet has. But with sticks, it becomes a puzzle he can solve.

Why arranging materials work

Your child doesn’t need to write letters yet. At this age - 3 or 4 - she’s still learning how lines work. Straight ones. Curved ones. Lines that cross. Lines that go next to each other or over each other. Lines that sit on top, under, or inside.

So before she writes with a pencil, help her understand what letters are.

Letters are made of parts. And those parts follow patterns. When you give your child matchsticks, twigs, or strips of paper to arrange, she can experiment with those patterns freely. No pressure. No grip. No fear of getting it wrong.

Ask yourself:

• Does your child struggle to form shapes when drawing?

• Is she reversing letters?

• Does she tire quickly or give up when asked to write?

• Do her drawings show ideas, but lack control?

If so, don't worry. It's completely normal. Preschool is early to start writing. But that doesn't mean we can't put the building blocks in place.

Your child simply needs more experience seeing and building shapes before she tries to draw them.

Why this approach builds confidence

It removes the tricky parts. Using matchsticks or twigs allows your child to focus on placement, shape and orientation without the added challenge of pencil grip and fine motor control.

It lets her pause and think. She can move a stick, stand back, adjust a line. No erasers, no smudges. Just space to think.

It builds visual memory. Arranging pieces helps your child recognise what makes an ‘A’ an ‘A’ - even if she can’t yet draw one.

It removes the fear of failure. Get a line wrong? Just move it. Try again. Nothing is lost.

It prepares her for writing. She’s developing spatial reasoning, pattern recognition, and problem-solving - the foundations of handwriting and maths.

A note from history
This method isn’t new. In the 1800s, Friedrich Froebel gave children sticks and peas to build shapes and patterns. His goal? To help them see mathematical relationships before they could name or measure them.

Modern research echoes this. Children who play with shapes and spatial materials develop stronger reasoning skills in maths and science. And it all begins with placing one stick and then another.

Try it yourself. Find some plasticine and see what you can create.

The developmental arc

Even babies engage in a form of arranging. Ben, aged 8 months, will soon learn to place one block on top of another. He is learning to pick up, decide, and put - a process that underpins all mark-making.

Once children begin to make purposeful marks, they experiment with connection and proximity.

As your child's confidence grows, arranging involves a series of increasingly sophisticated spatial decisions:

• Single lines. Laying sticks end to end.

• Intersections. Creating crosses and stars.

• Angles. Joining two sticks to make a corner.

• Enclosure. Forming closed shapes like squares and triangles.

• Composition. Using shapes to represent real things.

Explore Elmwood

The children of Elmwood are your companions this journey through childhood. Read more about them and the town they live in here:

Elmwood: a parent's guide | A tour of Elmwood | Meet the The Children of Elmwood | Meet Sam | Oh! The places you'll go!

Matchstick pictures

By late May, cherry blossom season has passed in Elmwood, but the garden is still full of treasures. Dandelion clocks, tiny daisies, blades of grass, fallen petals from early roses - all can be part of your child’s first foray into line and pattern.

Natural materials are nice, but pencils, spaghetti - anything you can get your hands on - work just as well.

I find it easier just to buy a bag of 1000 matchsticks and keep them in the craft trolley. The children find all kinds of creative uses for them, from cages and bridges to clay tools and collage.

Step 1: play with lines

Lay out the sticks and let your child play.

No instructions. No letters. Just time and freedom.

She might make squares, triangles, circles. She might build a house with a square and a triangle. A sun with rays. A tree. A stick figure. A road.

Let her surprise you.

Start with a single stick.

Already there is meaning. A mark where there was nothing before.

It's a 'one', a person, an arrow.

It's the essence of mark making. A simple line.

Now add a second. You have created a relationship. Next to, parallel to, but not touching.

Not very interesting?

Add a third one and lay it across the others.

Down, down, across! as my second son used to say when he was Sam's age. That's my name!

Step 2: from lines to shapes

Now add a fourth. Slide one up, and one down and you have a square.

And from a square you only need a fifth stick to make several more letters.

See how it goes? We start with a simple shape, memorise it, and build from there.

Step 3: From shapes to patterns

Patterns are foundational.

Everything else is built on top.

They teach children to make and test predictions. 

To extend my train, I think I have to add four matchsticks to make another square. No! That's not right. I only need three. The square doesn't need its left side because it attaches to the existing carriage.

This is the beginning of if-then thinking.

That kind of thinking – if I do this, then that will happen – is the basis of logic.

If I want to add a square to an existing structure, I only need three matchsticks.

It develops like this:

1. Recognition. Your child spots something repeating: colour, shape, size.

2. Reproduction. She tries to copy it.

3. Prediction. She starts to guess what comes next.

4. Generalisation. She invents her own rules and tests them.

5. Abstraction. She can apply the same logic to other domains: number sequences, cause and effect, even social situations.

By arranging materials into patterns, she’s practising rule-based thinking - which later shows up in maths, reading, science, and coding.

A square with more vertical lines becomes a window with bars - or a drawbridge. A square with one side missing can be joined to another one that's upside down to make an 's' on its side. Join lots of these together and you have battlements!

Step 4: From patterns to logic

When your child builds a fence from repeating lines, she’s not just copying. She’s testing a rule: this shape comes next.

Each addition confirms or challenges that rule. This is the seed of logical thinking - the same process she’ll use to solve equations, debug code, or understand cause and effect.

Pattern teaches prediction. Prediction leads to reasoning. Reasoning becomes logic.

This is why I created StoryChild.

To understand our children's journeys over a decade. Because learning and life can't be compartmentalised.

Zig-zags are special

In his research on early mark-making, Professor John Matthews observed that young children often repeat the same movement over and over, not to represent something, but for the sheer joy of the motion. He called the zigzag a “continuous open triangle” – a repeated up-and-down action made with growing control.

As far as I know, he didn't ever use the term “continuous open squares” but when you look at castle battlements, that's exactly what they are. And I'm also laying claim to “continuous open circles”, or waves to you and me.

These aren’t random scribbles. They show that your child is learning how to vary pressure, direction, and rhythm – the foundations of all later drawing and writing.

Tricky with a pencil. Simple with sticks.

Step 5: discoveries

Now you can make patterns, you can extend them and see where they lead.

How do I make a circle with sticks, Daddy?

What shapes can you make so far?

Squares are easy.

That's a good start. Have you tried adding an extra stick? And another one?

Sometimes you have to ask the question. But, more often than not, your child follows a line of inquiry and makes a discovery herself.

The trick is to offer open-ended materials - and time.

If there's noise, distractions, the promise of screens... it won't work.

A calm quiet room is all you need for deep learning.

Step 6: Drawing pictures

Once you've mastered the basic shapes, the next step is to put them together. This comes naturally. You don't have to force it.

Our goal is to keep it fun. As soon as your child senses you want a result of some kind, she'll start to feel pressure and withdraw.

But don't worry, we're on track!

Now look at some drawings by my youngest, between the ages of three and five:

See the matchsticks? See the shapes? They are everywhere.

Now look at her writing, just before her fifth birthday.

A direct line - from placing lines to drawing and writing.

Step 7: [Bonus] Matching lines to letters

We haven't quite reached the end of the road. Sam will pass through here on the way to writing but that's a story for another day.

Like Sam, your child might see the possibilities in the sticks and want to write her name. Like the place mat activity for positioning cutlery (see below), scaffolding your child's letter formation can help. Take a piece of paper and draw her name using matchstick-length lines. All she has to do is put one stick on each line.

If you're short of time, you can Google and print 'lolly stick activity cards' (to keep it low-key) or letters of the alphabet.

Easy.

Try it at home

Activities to try this week

These activities are designed to be open-ended, with minimal adult direction. Think of them as nudges rather than instructions. Provide the materials. Offer an idea if needed. Then step back and watch.

Monday. Leave a tray of sticks and small objects (bottle tops, pine cones, pebbles, buttons) near a window or on the kitchen table. Say nothing. Wait to see what she builds.

Tuesday. Lay out three or four matchstick figures. They are an invitation into a story.

Wednesday. Explore symmetry by placing a mirror on the table alongside the sticks. Let your child discover that you can make a complete shape with just half the pieces.

Thursday. Offer a mix of straight and curved materials: sticks, string, leaves, pipe cleaners. Let her explore different types of lines and how they can be combined.

Friday. Get outside and go large. Do you have any materials you can arrange in the garden? Logs, branches, benches? Challenge your child to apply her learning on a bigger scale.

One nudge, one habit, and one change to the room

Nudge. Set out a small tray with a mix of circles (curtain rings, bangles), buttons, and matchsticks. Arrange one figure yourself: a ring for the head, buttons for eyes, matchsticks for arms and legs. Then leave it. Your child might copy it, adapt it, or spot what’s missing.

With time, she’ll add a body too — because something in the pattern feels incomplete.

This is arranging with purpose. She’s not just making a shape — she’s making sense of the world.

Habit. Involve your child in laying the table for lunch. Plate in the middle, fork on the left, knife on the right, spoon at the top, beaker top right. You can even buy placemats with these positions marked (like the one shown here). Over time, the mat can be removed - and your child will have internalised the layout, with left and right learned as a bonus.

Environment. Encourage larger-scale arranging by making a few lightweight pieces of furniture available. A play kitchen, a small table and a couple of chairs are enough. Watch what happens: two chairs side by side become a car. One behind the other — a bus. Don’t want the clutter of buying furniture your child will grow out of? Cardboard boxes are a fine substitute.

Toys that support arranging

You don’t need toys to begin arranging — sticks, stones, and scraps are more than enough. But some materials make it easier to build quickly, explore more combinations, and develop a sense of what works.

Here are a few to look out for:

• Connecta Straws or similar building straws. Ideal for rapid shape creation. Children can snap together straight lines and joints, experimenting with angles and enclosed spaces. A triangle or square takes seconds to build — and even less time to adapt.

• Polydron or magnetic shapes. These reinforce the properties of geometric forms. You can join several shapes together, flip them, and explore how they combine to form new figures.

• Wooden arches and semi-circles. Encourage radial and spiral constructions. Children can create flower shapes, wheels, or faces with surprising ease.

• Plasticine or soft wax. There are two ways to use this:

  1. Roll it into thin lines to use as flexible sticks. This lets children make curves and create letters like 'S' or circles with far greater realism.

  2. Use it as 'connectors' (like Froebel's peas and sticks), enabling three-dimensional building. This 3D extension is challenging but achievable for children approaching five, and a natural next step for those drawn to it.

Offer one or two of these toys alongside natural or recycled materials. You’re not trying to steer the play — just offering new tools for thinking in space.

Where does arranging lead?
At 6, Alice uses her knowledge of shape and position to draw increasingly sophisticated pictures and has mastered letter formation with ease.

At 8, Raj uses these skills to play chess. He sees the board, not as fixed, but as a system in motion. He can hold multiple positions (arrangements) in mind and imagine their consequences.

At 11, Daisy is learning to code in Scratch. She sequences blocks of code like dominoes – each triggering the next, each changing what happens onscreen. Most importantly, she shows us her transition from using concrete objects, real things she can touch and move, to abstract thought. She can now arrange ideas in her head.

It all starts here: with two lines, joined at a corner.

Looking ahead

In the next issue, Sam and George will move from arranging shapes to using their hands in new ways - twisting, pinching, threading and folding - to develop the muscle control needed for writing. You’ll learn how to support your child’s fine motor development through simple, everyday activities.

Final word

Sam is still at the table, but now he's all smiles, his name spelled out in matchsticks.

He takes a lolly stick away then puts it back again, satisfied that the letter is restored.

Then jumbles the lot and starts from scratch. He forgets a couple of steps but now knows the game. He experiments until it's just right.

Beaming, he breaks it again. Over and over.

When your child is motivated to depict something, she begins to solve problems of shape and line.

The 'A' looks like a roof. A roof is a triangle. If I add a square I can turn it into a house. And if I copy this design I can make a town!

And what about people? Legs are like triangles with the bottom missing. I could even use one as a head. Or would a square be better?

She’s making meaning. And in doing so, she’s discovering geometry, composition - and the building blocks of writing.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences. If you have any questions or just want to continue the conversation, please leave a comment below.

Happy playing!

Alexis

Welcome to Elmwood: the fictional neighbourhood at the heart of our stories. It’s a place where your child can grow up alongside a cast of companion characters, each navigating her own path through friendship, play, and growing independence.

This guide introduces the physical world of Elmwood - the real and imagined spaces that shape your child’s daily life. These are the streets, playgrounds, and tucked-away corners that give meaning to our stories and context to your child’s development.

Why does this matter? Because the environment shapes what your child can become. Elmwood offers your child the chance to experience the full richness of childhood. With a brook to dam, a climbing frame to conquer, a library to explore, and a hollow oak to hide inside, she is free to move, think, create, and connect.

In Elmwood, no one grows up lopsided. Your child isn’t reduced to her scores or her talents. She becomes well-rounded, happy, and secure - not because she’s been pushed to do it all, but because the world around her has offered her the freedom to try everything, amongst friends, with joy.

The Green

At the centre of Elmwood is The Green - a large open space where everything seems to happen. The children learn through movement, negotiation, and imaginative play in an environment that invites them to take the lead. There’s:

• A playground. Designed for different ages and abilities, encouraging risk-taking, collaboration, and physical confidence.

• A bridge over the brook. A favourite spot for Poohsticks and early scientific reasoning - testing flow, speed, and cause and effect.

• Willow trees. A shady spot for picnics and small-group play, where stories unfold beneath the branches.

• The Hideout. A stand of trees at the far end, where older children disappear into secret worlds, learning how to self-organise and build shared narratives.

• The stocks. A relic of Elmwood’s past that now sparks curiosity and humour - and a favourite target for sponge-throwing at the annual school fair.

On Saturday mornings, parents gather at the picnic benches with flasks of tea while the children explore. At other times, The Green is a backdrop for chance meetings, quiet discoveries, and grand adventures.

Walker Brook

Skirting the edge of The Green is Walker Brook, a shallow stream that meanders through a line of trees. Children splash in the shallows, dam the flow, or collect natural treasures. They learn to ask questions, notice patterns, and experiment with materials in a way that feels like play but lays the foundations for scientific thinking.

You might spot:

• Yuki. Lining up sticks and naming each one.

• Sam. Testing the strength of his latest dam.

• Ben. Watching the ripples in absolute stillness.

Walker Brook is a place of both noise and quiet - sometimes a flurry of activity, sometimes a sanctuary.

Witch’s Oak

Elmwood has its legends too. On the edge of the cricket ground stands Witch’s Oak — a vast, hollow tree that seems purpose-built for hiding and storytelling.

Children dare each other to go inside. "She only comes out after dark," they say. "But if you say her name three times..." No one ever has. Probably.

It’s a place for myth-making, risk assessment, and building a shared culture through whispered stories.

The Victory Tree

At the far end of The Green stands another oak, The Victory Tree - wide at the base and split into two trunks, just wide enough for your child to stand between.

Every race ends here. Every invasion game. First one there wins. Touch the trunk and you're safe. Even the youngest child knows the rule. It’s as much a ritual as it is a destination - helping your child understand rules, fairness, and shared traditions.

The neighbourhood: where the children live

Elmwood is made up of distinct little pockets, each with its own character. Most of the children live in The Lakes or Ten Acres, two adjoining areas on either side of The Green.

The Lakes is a grid of Edwardian streets named after lakes in the Lake District.

• Coniston Lane. Ben lives here in an upstairs flat.

• Windermere Road. Home to Yuki and her multigenerational household.

• Derwent Avenue. Where Raj’s flat backs onto a shared garden and treehouse headquarters.

The Lakes is close-knit and lively, with alleyways between gardens and a constant hum of activity. Children here learn independence in safe spaces - slipping between houses, negotiating shared resources, and navigating small-scale freedom.

Ten Acres, by contrast, sits on a steep hill. Built in the 1930s, it’s made up of pebble-dashed semis with hedges, garages, and steep driveways.

• Waterfall Gardens. This is where Alice and Sam live - partway up the hill, with the school at the top and the park at the bottom.

Ten Acres is where scooters gather speed, where sledges fly in winter, and where your child learns to climb without stopping. The hill itself becomes a lesson in persistence.

Local characters

Children don’t just learn in school. All around Elmwood, ordinary adults contribute quietly to their education. The corner shop becomes a place to practise counting coins and working out change. The lollipop man’s sign means ‘Stop’ - a symbol childern recognise long before they can read. In the allotments, on the bus, and in the café, they learn how the world works, one small interaction at a time.

Educational settings

Elmwood offers a rich tapestry of educational experiences, reflecting the choices many real families make.

Diana Preschool serves children aged 2 - 5 with a creative, project-based approach. Named after the famous Diana School in Reggio Emilia, Italy, it combines expressive, child-led learning with the structure of a mainstream setting. Inside, you’ll find documentation panels celebrating your child’s ideas and walls lined with open-ended materials. Director Jenny and teachers Miguel and Sarah create an atmosphere of gentle guidance, where curiosity leads the way.

The Children’s House offers a contrasting experience. Named after Montessori’s original Casa dei Bambini, it’s a calm, ordered space with mixed-age groups working independently with beautiful materials. Guides Mr. Thomas and Ms. Imani respect your child’s pace and protect long stretches of focused work. Several Elmwood children attend here, and we often follow them as they move between environments.

Waterfall School, the local primary, sits at the top of Ten Acres. It balances academic expectations with a belief in childhood wonder. Headteacher Mrs Bennett believes that rigour and creativity belong together - and it shows in everything from the forest school sessions to the annual Eisteddfod, a festival of music, poetry, and performance that spans generations.

Why this world matters

Elmwood isn’t just a setting. It’s how we bring developmental theory to life.

Every story begins with a moment that feels familiar - a child lining up her toys, refusing to put on her coat, asking the same question for the fifteenth time. But it doesn’t stop there. You’ll learn the theory behind the moment.

It’s not enough to watch Yuki squeal with delight when her Poohstick appears on the other side of the bridge, we look at what this means for her understanding of trajectory and object permanence and where it all leads.

When Alice finally climbs the rope ladder she avoided all term, we unpack what that tells us about her confidence, her vestibular system, and her growing sense of mastery.

You don’t have to guess. With StoryChild, you’ll understand your child’s what drives your child’s interests and how to support them.

Elmwood may not appear on any map, but you’ll know it when you see it - because it’s the neighbourhood you’ve always hoped for, where childhood unfolds and where you, as a parent, gain the understanding to walk alongside it.

Your play companion to the preschool years.

The Play Companion

A weekly guide to playful learning, growing independence, and childhood as it should be.

Sam is three and a half. He’s on the cusp of four - the age where imagination expands, friendships deepen, and play begins to carry intention. He spends his days making treasure maps, tying up his toys with string, and asking “What happens if…?”

He’s not at school yet, but make no mistake - he’s learning.

He is springing towards school.

In Spring to School, you’ll follow Sam each week as he explores the world with cardboard, crayons, and curiosity. You’ll learn what school readiness really means - and how to support it through joyful, everyday play.

This isn’t a checklist or a crash course. It’s a gentle unfolding, rooted in your child’s natural rhythms and interests. Like a spring garden, readiness blooms when the conditions are right.

What does school readiness look like?

It’s not knowing letters or numbers (though those might come). It’s the ability to:

• Join in play and share ideas

• Cope with disappointment, delay, and change

• Notice patterns and ask questions

• Express a need clearly - or show care for a friend

• Hold a plan in mind, adjust it, and try again

These aren’t academic skills. They are developmental ones, built through the body, through play, through relationships.

The theories behind the scenes

This series draws on well-established ideas in child development - but don’t worry, you won’t need a psychology degree to follow along. Each week, we translate theory into everyday parenting insight.

You’ll see:

• Repeated play patterns (schemas). Sam’s fascination with wrapping, stacking, and lining up objects reveals how he’s experimenting with ideas about movement, connection, and transformation.

• Emotional confidence. He’s in a stage where he wants to take the lead - setting up games, making plans, solving problems. This drive to explore and assert himself is a healthy sign of growing independence.

• The power of small supports. Sometimes Sam can’t quite manage a task on his own - but a simple prompt or a well-placed suggestion helps him get there. With just the right amount of help, children grow into their next stage.

• Thinking skills emerging. Sam is beginning to hold ideas in mind, plan steps ahead, and pause (sometimes!) before acting. These are the early building blocks of self-control and flexible thinking.

• Brain development in motion. His mind is still wiring itself - fast. What he does now, and how he’s supported, lays the foundation for learning, resilience, and emotional wellbeing later.

Behind the scenes, we’re drawing on research from Piaget, Vygotsky, Ainsworth, Erikson, and more. But you won’t see jargon - just clear, parent-friendly insight that helps you understand what’s going on and how to support it.

What you’ll get each week

Each Spring to School post is a story about Sam - something he did, said, struggled with, or discovered. But it’s also a story about your child.

You’ll find:

• An anecdote from Sam’s week that illustrates a moment of development

• A short explanation of what’s happening under the surface

• Practical ideas for play, routines, or conversations that support similar growth at home

• A gentle reminder that development is not a race - and your child is right where she needs to be

Why follow Sam?

Sam is the bridge between research and reality. He shows how theory lives in cereal-box robots and cardboard castles. He reminds us that before your child can write her name, she needs to own an idea - build it, act it out, try it three different ways.

Your job isn’t to teach it all. It’s to create the environment where learning sticks.

And that’s what Spring to School is here to help you do.

Happy playing!

Alexis

Your guide to the preschool years (ages 3–5)

Sam peers around the door of his bedroom, clutching a handmade treasure map.

"I'm looking for clues," he whispers. "They're hidden. You have to find them."

This is Sam at three and a half - caught in that magical, boundary-blurring window where imagination takes flight, friendships take root, and play becomes a full-time occupation. One moment he’s a vet bandaging his toy rabbit, the next he’s Professor Zap, fixing things with a colander helmet and a cardboard toolkit.

You’ll usually find him deep in a story only he understands or halfway through an invention made from sellotape and cereal boxes. The kitchen table in his 1930s Elmwood semi is strewn with string, scissors, and scraps. The garden boasts a mud kitchen, a beanpole teepee, and at least three experimental ‘labs’ made of scrap wood and curiosity.

He lives with his parents - Rachel (a primary school teacher) and Thomas (an IT consultant) - and his six-year-old sister, Alice, who sometimes borrows his felt tips without asking.

Where Sam is now

Sam is in the heart of the preschool years - still learning through his body, his hands, his senses, but starting to organise ideas and express them through play. His drawings are turning into stories. His games have rules (sometimes). His friendships are real and (often) intense.

He is beginning to test his ideas against the world.

At home, he tapes kitchen roll tubes into stethoscopes and sorts his books by colour. At the Diana Preschool, he asks big questions:

“Why do we have eyebrows?”
“Can you turn soup back into a carrot?”
“What happens if you dig all the way through the Earth?”

Outdoors, Sam’s world stretches from The Green - where he hosts ‘important meetings’ under the cherry tree - to Walker Brook, where he builds dams with Alice and Raj.

He’s exploring:

• Connection and transformation schemas. Taping, wrapping, combining, constructing.

• Imaginative role play. Vet, explorer, engineer.

• Early literacy. Labelling, list-making, storytelling through pictures and maps.

• Emotional flexibility. Big feelings, big recoveries.

Some days he negotiates like a diplomat. Others, he cries because the stick isn’t the ‘right’ one. That’s preschool.

What’s coming up

Over the next year, you’ll follow Sam through all kinds of adventures:

• Planning for the May Fair. Dancing might be on the cards - maybe.

• Telling his first ‘written’ story. Drawn in six parts, with arrows.

• Testing his limits. Climbing the big log at Walker Brook, again and again.

• Discovering new friendships. Aisha knows everything about trains.

He’ll move from parallel play to real collaboration. From imaginary potions to labelled diagrams. From making a mess to making a plan.

And you’ll see his parents navigating the familiar tensions:

• Screens. How to avoid battles without banning them.

• School readiness. How to support early reading and writing - without rushing.

• Friendships. When to step in, and when to let her figure it out.

• Independence. How to make space for your child to become herself.

Why follow Sam?

Because you have a preschooler of your own. Or one on the way. Or because you want to understand what’s going on behind your child’s latest explorations and questions.

Because Sam shows us that play isn’t a break from learning - it is learning.

When you understand how Sam learns, you start to see your own child differently.

And because in Elmwood, we learn in stories.

Sam’s are just beginning.

How children grow, learn, and develop from infancy through middle childhood

Rather than learning about child development through abstract theories, what if you could follow real children through their daily lives? The Children of Elmwood are fictional characters who will guide you through the key stages of development from infancy to age 11. This post explores how development unfolds over time - the flowing river that connects each stage.

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose." - Dr. Seuss

The Flowing River of Childhood

Your child's brain is built one activity at a time.

She constructs meaning. She explores objects and how they work. She tests relationships and how they work.

And every time, her schemas, her theories about how the world works, are confirmed or torn down.

When we look at The Children of Elmwood playing together on The Green, it's easy to see the obvious differences between them. Ben, at eight months, is just mastering sitting independently, while Daisy at eleven is confidently planning her transition to secondary school.

What's less visible is how each child's abilities have unfolded along a continuous path of development - and how the seeds of Daisy's self-advocacy and independence were present years ago when she was Ben's age, reaching for toys just beyond her grasp.

This journey from infancy to middle childhood isn't a series of disconnected milestones.

It flows, like Walker Brook, the stream that the children of Elmwood love so much.

It may be slow and winding, but the destination is inevitable.

Drop your poohstick in the water and let the current carry it along.

It will go at its own pace. You can't hurry it. The pleasure is in the journey, not how soon you get there.

From sensory explorers to abstract thinkers

The sensory foundations (0-12 months)

Ben's world is primarily experienced through his senses. When he mouths wooden teething rings, pats the bumpy texture of his board books, or gazes intently at the shadows moving across his nursery wall, he's not just playing - he's building crucial neural pathways.

These sensory explorations create the foundation for all later learning:

• When Ben notices his rattle makes a sound when shaken, he's discovering cause and effect, a skill he'll put to good use in science lessons one day.

• As he reaches for toys just beyond his grasp, he's developing spatial awareness. Essential for the geometry he'll learn at school.

• While tracking his mother's movements across the room, he's building visual attention and discrimination.

Discovering action and power (1-3 years)

Yuki's world revolves around movement, manipulation, and newfound independence. Her endless fascination with filling bags and baskets, then emptying them again, isn't just repetitive play - it's her brain working to understand concepts of containment, volume, and object permanence.

Her play builds directly on the sensory foundations Ben is currently establishing:

• Ben's early grasping reflexes evolve into Yuki's deliberate manipulation of objects

• Ben's visual tracking develops into Yuki's ability to follow complex trajectories as she throws balls

• Ben's babbling transforms into Yuki's ever-expanding vocabulary

When Yuki covers her toy car with a blanket and then dramatically reveals it, announcing "All gone! Found it!" she's demonstrating how object permanence (knowing things exist even when not visible) has become secure enough that she can now play with the concept.

The imaginative explosion (3-5 years)

Sam's world expands dramatically through the power of imagination. His cardboard box is no longer just a container (as it was for Yuki) but transforms into a rocket ship, submarine, or castle depending on the day.

This leap into symbolic thinking builds upon the practical explorations of toddlerhood:

• Yuki's early sorting of objects by colour or size becomes Sam's ability to classify by more abstract features ("things that go together")

• Yuki's simple cause-effect experiments evolve into Sam's multi-step predictions ("If I put this ramp here, then my car will jump over the block")

• Yuki's emerging vocabulary explodes into Sam's complex narratives and explanations

When Sam creates an elaborate hospital for his stuffed animals, complete with waiting room and prescription notes scribbled with wavy lines, he's demonstrating how manipulation of real objects has evolved into manipulation of ideas.

Building social worlds (5-7 years)

Alice's world increasingly centres around relationships and the excitement of formal learning. Her growing interest in "real" reading and writing doesn't emerge from nowhere - it builds directly on Sam's pretend writing and storytelling.

We see how earlier foundations support her development:

• Sam's solitary pretend play evolves into Alice's complex social role-play with friends

• Sam's recognition of environmental print ("That's the STOP sign!") transforms into Alice's early reading

• Sam's rough categorisations develop into Alice's more refined sorting and pattern recognition

When Alice carefully writes a birthday card for her friend Juliet, sounding out words and asking for spelling help with the tricky ones, we see how years of holding crayons, making marks, and telling stories have prepared her for this moment.

Systems and specialisations (7-11 years)

Raj's world is increasingly focused on understanding how things work, developing deep interests, and mastering complex systems of organization and logic. His detailed nature journal with careful sketches and observations of local birds shows how Ben's early fascination with textures has evolved into systematic investigation.

At eight, Raj is beginning to think in systems - he understands that his bird identification requires noting multiple characteristics (size, colour, beak shape, habitat) and cross-referencing them. When he organises his rock collection, he can sort by multiple criteria simultaneously and explain his classification system to others.

The connections to earlier stages remain clear:

• Alice's beginning peer relationships mature into Raj's deeper friendships built around shared interests and collaborative projects

• Alice's emergent literacy becomes Raj's reading for research and the joy of diving deep into topics that fascinate him

• Alice's simple categorisations evolve into Raj's complex classification systems and his ability to see patterns across different domains

When Raj spends an afternoon designing detailed plans for the neighbourhood treehouse, measuring dimensions and sketching different levels with precise attention to structural stability, we see how Ben's early cause-effect explorations have developed into logical, systematic thinking about real-world problems.

Confident independence (11 years)

Daisy's world represents the flowering of all those early foundations. At eleven, she can think abstractly, consider multiple perspectives, and make reasoned decisions about her own learning and relationships. Her ability to advocate for herself when she needs help with maths, or to mediate between Alice and Juliet when they disagree, shows how Ben's early social awareness has evolved into sophisticated emotional intelligence.

The connections to all earlier stages are beautifully clear:

• Raj's systematic thinking matures into Daisy's ability to plan long-term projects and consider consequences

• Raj's deep interests evolve into Daisy's capacity to pursue her passions while balancing multiple commitments

• Raj's collaborative friendships develop into Daisy's skill at navigating complex social dynamics and supporting younger children

When Daisy organises a neighborhood talent show, coordinating schedules, managing personalities, and troubleshooting problems as they arise, we see how Ben's early reaching and grasping has transformed into a confident young person who can reach for her goals and grasp opportunities in the wider world.

Individual journeys within universal patterns

While development follows predictable patterns, each child's journey is beautifully unique. The Children of Elmwood illustrate this perfectly:

Juliet and Alice are in the same school year, but their approaches to learning differ markedly. While Alice dove into reading early and progressed quickly, Juliet was initially more cautious with letters and sounds. Now, they've reached similar reading levels despite taking completely different paths - Alice through systematic phonics, Juliet through her love of picture books and storytelling.

George and Sam, both preschoolers, demonstrate how birth timing affects development. George's greater physical confidence comes partly from being several months older, while Sam's detailed imaginative scenarios showcase his particular strengths in language and creativity.

Yuki's bilingual home means her vocabulary in each individual language might seem smaller than her monolingual peers', yet her total vocabulary across both languages is actually larger, and her ability to think about language itself is remarkably advanced.

Alex's ADHD means his attention moves in bursts and waves rather than straight lines. His ability to hyperfocus on building projects is extraordinary, while sitting still for story time remains challenging. Both are part of his unique developmental profile.

Different children, different strengths - even within the same developmental windows, we see beautiful variety. While Raj at eight excels at systematic investigation and sustained focus on specific interests, Daisy at eleven shows us how those foundations bloom into sophisticated social intelligence and confident self-advocacy.

Like ripples on Walker Brook, development moves outward in expanding circles, sometimes pushing forward rapidly in one area while consolidating more slowly in another.

Supporting your child's unique journey

Understanding this developmental continuum helps us support children appropriately:

Trust the foundations

When Ben spends twenty minutes dropping spoons from his highchair, he's not making a mess - he's deep in research. Recognising this empowers us to leave him to his explorations, knowing that they'll lead to the kind of scientific thinking that, seven years later, fascinates Raj so much.

Look backwards to move forwards

If your child is struggling with a particular skill, consider whether an earlier foundational skill needs more support. Raj's difficulty with written composition was helped not by more writing practice, but by returning to oral storytelling to strengthen his narrative abilities. If this is your child, take a look back in time at what Alice and Juliet are up to. They might be enjoying something that's just right for you.

Recognise the integration

Development isn't compartmentalised into "physical," "cognitive," and "social" boxes. When Sam builds block towers with friends, he's simultaneously developing spatial awareness, social negotiation, language skills, and emotional regulation.

Celebrate the journey, not just destinations

Yuki struggles to do up her zip. She's two-and-a-half.

She has no chance.

But her 'unsuccessful' efforts are developing the fine motor skills to master zips, pencils and scissors in record time.

She's delighted with her attempts. There's no need to jump in and fix things.

Honour individual timelines

The age ranges associated with developmental stages are windows, not deadlines. Some children walk at 9 months, others at 17 months - both are within normal ranges. They all get there in the end.

Childhood itself has immense value. These years aren't merely preparation for adult life. They are a rich and important time in their own right.

We'll mix activities, child development theory and the children's stories to give you the fullest picture of your child's journey from Ben to Daisy. Not rushing ahead, nor holding back. The right support at the right time, meeting her exactly where she is.

The one phrase I heard more than anything else on my teacher training?

Start with the child.

And that's exactly what we'll do.

Writing their own story

"You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So... get on your way!"

Dr. Seuss, Oh! The Places You'll Go!

At eleven, Daisy stands at the threshold of adolescence with all the foundational skills she needs to navigate the wider world. She can advocate for herself, think critically about complex problems, maintain friendships through difficulties, and pursue her passions with sustained focus.

The journey from Ben's first grasps to Daisy's confident independence shows us something remarkable: every child carries within them the capacity to write their own story. StoryChild doesn't just help you understand where your child is today - it helps you see where she is heading and trust in her ability to get there.

What do you want for your child?

I want mine to be able to walk to school by themselves, advocate for their needs, pursue their interests with passion, and face new challenges with confidence.

I want them to become the authors of their own adventures.

This is the world that StoryChild is preparing your child for - not just academic success, but the deep confidence that comes from being understood, supported, and trusted to grow at their own pace.

"And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)"

There's a Dr. Seuss quotation for just about anything...

Ready to dive deeper into your child's current stage? Choose your Elmwood companion and begin following their weekly adventures through the seasons.

Happy playing!

P.S. Over the coming days, The Children of Elmwood's profiles will appear on the website along with links to the newsletters and articles that invite us into their worlds.

• Start with the Child is the place to go for Yuki's story. (Toddlers)

• Sam and George will be your guides to Spring to School. (Preschoolers)

• Follow Alice and Juliet, Raj and Daisy in Screen-Free Saturdays. You'll also see cameos from Alex from time to time. (School age)

• Coming soon, a new newsletter for Ben and Alfie, Elmwood's youngest friends. (Babies)

Have you ever noticed how your child seems like a completely different person depending on who she's with?

With Grandma, she's chatty and confident, sharing elaborate stories about her day. With her older cousin, she becomes quiet and watchful, absorbing everything. At the playground with friends, she transforms into a natural leader, organising games and settling disputes.

Which one is the real child?

They all are.

This is why a school report or assessment can never capture the full picture of who your child is. Children aren't fixed beings that we can simply measure and categorise. They're dynamic, relational creatures who grow and reveal themselves differently depending on the people, places, and circumstances around them.

Your child's thinking doesn't just happen inside her head - it emerges through her relationships, her environment, the rhythm of her days. She becomes more capable when she feels understood, more creative when she feels safe, more confident when she's supported by familiar routines and trusted adults.

This is why knowing your child means knowing her world - the people who love her, the places where she plays, the community that shapes her days.

And this is why we're going to Elmwood.

Meet your guides

In the past, I created courses for toddlers, for preschoolers and for the over 5s. People seemed to like them - but I couldn't shake the feeling that the material was too compartmentalised. We covered topics in isolation. There was no continuity.

But here in Elmwood, you won't just read about child development in the abstract. You'll follow the children through real days, watching how they develop the skills that matter - from first grasps to confident writing, from babbling to storytelling, from solitary play to collaborative problem-solving.

When you see Sam carefully arranging materials for his cardboard castle construction, you'll understand how fine motor skills, spatial reasoning, and planning abilities develop together through purposeful play.

When Yuki sorts her shell collection by size and colour while chatting about where she found each one, you'll witness how early mathematical thinking emerges naturally alongside language development.

When Alice reads a story to her younger brother Sam, sounding out tricky words and explaining the pictures, you'll see how literacy skills become tools for connection and teaching others.

This is how real learning happens - not through isolated exercises, but through meaningful activities embedded in relationships and daily life.

Six companions for your journey

Each of the six central characters in Elmwood represents a key stage in your child's journey from baby to pre-teen. They're not perfect children or model families - they're real, recognisable, and wonderfully ordinary.

You'll meet:

• Ben, our baby (0-12 months)

• Yuki, our toddler (1-3 years)

• Sam, our preschooler (3-5 years)

• Alice, our infant school child (5-7 years)

• Raj, our junior school child (7-11)

• Daisy, our Year 6 child (11), about to begin secondary school

By following the child closest to your child's age, you'll see the world through her eyes - her patterns of play, her social and emotional milestones, and the gentle rhythm of her growth.

Ben (0-12 months)

Lives on Coniston Lane with his parents

Ben is just beginning to understand the world through movement and touch. He mouths, pats, shakes, and reaches, gradually discovering cause and effect. His days are full of bath-time splashing, peekaboo games, and the slow magic of learning that things exist even when he can't see them.

When you follow Ben, you'll see responsive caregiving in action, early play patterns emerging, and those first magical moments of communication.

Yuki (2 years 6 months)

Lives on Windermere Road in a bilingual household

Yuki is an independent experimenter with a strong sense of self. She insists on doing things her own way, often absorbed in transporting toys from room to room, carefully arranging her collection of shells, or lining up her books in precise rows. Her emotional world is big, and her words are catching up. She loves puddles, bugs, and the rhythm of repetition.

When you follow Yuki, you'll see play schemas in full bloom, big feelings navigated with support, and language flowering in beautiful, surprising ways.

Sam (3 years 8 months)

Lives on Waterfall Lane with his parents and big sister Alice

Sam builds worlds. One week he's a vet healing all the neighbourhood cats, the next he's inventing a robot that waters the garden. His bedroom is filled with cardboard constructions and his speech is peppered with big ideas. He's curious, sensitive, and just learning how to collaborate with peers.

When you follow Sam, you'll see imaginative play taking flight, early literacy emerging naturally, and the tender work of learning to be a friend.

Alice (6 years)

Sam's older sister

Alice is a confident doer who's just discovering the joy of reading and writing. She creates stories, builds dens in the garden, and takes pride in mastering new skills like tying her shoelaces or making toast for breakfast. But she's also learning to navigate friendship drama and the ups and downs of school life.

When you follow Alice, you'll see the bridge between play and formal learning, resilience growing through challenges, and independence blooming with support.

Raj (8 years 6 months)

Raj is precise, thoughtful, and endlessly curious. His interests run deep: birds, maps, electronics, the way things work. He leads the group when it comes to research projects and detailed planning. He journals, designs, and reflects. Sometimes he forgets to eat lunch because he's so absorbed in his treehouse blueprints.

When you follow Raj, you'll see sustained focus developing, critical thinking in action, and the joy of diving deep into passions.

Daisy (11 years)

About to start secondary school

Daisy is confident, thoughtful, and ready for independence. She can manage complex friendships, advocate for herself when needed, and pursue her interests with sustained focus. She reads sophisticated novels, writes stories with her own voice, and takes responsibility for younger children in the neighbourhood. But she's also still a child who loves building dens and collecting smooth stones from Walker Brook.

When you follow Daisy, you'll see the culmination of all those early developmental foundations - and catch a glimpse of the capable young person your child is becoming. Daisy is at the end of her StoryChild journey. She leaves Waterfall School in July, and while we'll still see her around Elmwood, we won't follow her development after that. Like the circle of life, there will be a new baby born who comes in as Daisy departs, so that we always have six main children to guide you.

The wider community

These six aren't the only children in Elmwood. Each has friends whose stories reflect different paths through the same developmental stages:

• Juliet is Alice's best friend, a creative soul whose dyslexia means her literacy journey looks different but no less rich.

• George is Sam's best friend, a summer-born boy just starting to find his voice in group play.

• Clara speaks two languages at home and delights in bending the rules of both.

• Alex has ADHD, which means his play is full of bursts, tangents and intensity - but also dreamy reflection and surprising insights.

These characters help us explore the beautiful variety of how children grow. Not everyone fits the same template, and that's exactly the point.

Where to begin

Start by choosing your child’s Elmwood companion. You can follow just one or many. And you can switch as needed. It’s not set in stone. Every email and every article sits as a permanent resource on the website, a library of all things play and development from birth to eleven.

Each week, you’ll receive:

• A roundup email linking to all the latest posts, across a spread of ages.

• Bonus articles taking a deep dive into the theory, for those of you keen to understand the force behind your child’s play.

• Nudges, habits and Play Tools to make play inevitable.

• A glimpse ahead at what’s next

Elmwood is more than a framework. It’s a mirror. It helps you notice, remember, and respond with empathy. Because when you understand the journey, you parent with confidence.

How you can help Elmwood to grow
Over time, we'll weave in other children's stories when there's something they can teach us. An exceptionally bright girl who is bored and disruptive at school, a dyspraxia boy who gets back on track with the help of an occupational therapist. I'll be guided by you. Leave a comment below or drop me an email. Which children would help you get the most from Elmwood?

Happy playing!

Alexis

Elmwood is the town you grew up in.

You may never have walked its streets. But you know the feel of the pavement, the smell of the school hall, the hush of the house on a Saturday morning.

It’s fictional – but not fantasy.

There’s no magic here, no dragons, no princes or quests. Just the ordinary texture of childhood: the neighbour’s dog (I spent years being chased by the that mean old German shepherd), the wobbly table in the classroom (too tempting not to rock!) and the welcome clunk of a reluctant radiator on winter mornings.

I didn’t create Elmwood for your child.

I created it for you.

Why memory matters

Parenting isn’t just about knowledge.

It’s about interpretation.

Trying to understand your child’s behaviour – her joy, her fears, her mischief – without fully understanding your own childhood is like reading a novel in a language you barely know. You get the gist. But something vital is missing.

When you remember how it felt to be five, or seven, or ten, something clicks.

Her behaviour is no longer irrational, it’s familiar.

Not because you read about it in a book but because you’ve been there.

Your own childhood is your greatest parenting resource. You already know more than you think.

Why I made Elmwood

Elmwood is loosely based on the area of North London where I grew up.

Not to be autobiographical or sentimental - even though there were some cool looking people round there in those days…

No, it was because I needed a way to get back there.

I needed a way to get Back to the Future, to save the present by going back into the past.

Not quite right. As Rod Campbell would say in Dear Zoo: He was too grumpy. I sent him back.

No, I needed a DeLorean.

Now you’re talking!

In case you want to relive that magical moment in cinema history, here it is:

Sorry. Long-time - and long-suffering - readers know by now that I love a digression...

Elmwood helps me remember.

I hope it helps you, too.

What you might remember

The point isn’t to recreate my childhood. It’s to stir up memories of your own.

A place, a sound, a phrase – anything that brings you back to the lived experience of being small in a big world.

Do you remember your first day at school?

That’s an easy memory to retrieve.

You’ll have no trouble reassuring your child when the day comes for her to start because your own recollections are so vivid.

But what about the other times? Those more ordinary, everyday moments that get forgotten as we race through our lives.

The vignettes in StoryChild are there to jog your memory.

These aren’t just memories.

They’re templates.

When your child is angry, when she’s scared, when she’s dreamy or bursting with joy – part of you recognises it. Because you’ve felt it too.

Elmwood is a mirror, not a map

Elmwood isn’t an idealised childhood.

It’s not a model town or a perfect family.

It’s a mirror – held up to your own past.

Not to judge. Just to reflect.

That shift matters. Because when you see your child not as a problem to solve, but a person to remember – you become more patient, more curious, more attuned.

An invitation

So as you explore the stories of Elmwood – the children, the places, the rituals – notice what arises.

Notice the memories that surface.

Notice what you already know.

You don’t need more advice.

You need more connection – to your child, and to the child you once were.

Happy playing!

Alexis

P.S. Look out for A Plan for Play, coming soon. It’s the quick-reference companion guide to StoryChild - for when you want activities at your fingertips (and, of course, just enough theory to understand why they matter).

Here is a girl.

She launches a paper aeroplane across the living room and it is fun.

It dips, it swerves, it flies.

It cuts through the air. Delighted, the girl chases along behind.

At last, it lands gently on the rug.

But the game doesn't stop there.

Back to the start she goes and the plane takes off on another flight.

How many times does she do this? Who kno…

Read more