Let me correct myself. They, themselves, in their cute light up shoes and bent hoolahoop, actually bring me a long of joy. Roughly, every night around 6pm, I see the two presumable siblings with their families walking down the sidewalk toward the park. The older looking son is in front and is pushing forward while his little sister, with a suspiciously masculine looking baseball cap she wears backwards on her blonde curls, is trying to move her little legs with all her mite to keep up with him. She is, in fact, in the hoop too. I see them but a moment as I stop at the stop sign and slowly pull forward not far from my driveway. I even turn down my audio book to listen to the families laughs and children's squeals. I know nothing about this family other than this snapshot I see and I smile knowing what a beautiful moment that is and cognitively recognize the implications of friendship and strength this family has. Yet- my heart aches quickly after the positive thoughts enter and I am met with anger. Not at the hoolahoop kids, but at the parents who consistently chose to withhold simple joy from their children.
Not all of us were hoolahoop kids. As a trauma therapist, I know my sample size is a bit saturated and biased- but statistically, roughly 60% of our kids are exposed to violence and 1 in 7 experience neglect and other kinds of abuse in the home (CDC, 2023). The truth is, play is not just a childhood luxury — it is the foundation of freedom and development. When children run in the yard, chase after siblings, or giggle in the simplicity of a bent hoolahoop, they are doing more than playing. They are practicing creativity, learning social cues, and testing out independence in ways that shape their capacity for healthy adult relationships. Play is where freedom is rehearsed. It is where children first learn the delicate balance between autonomy and connection, between self-expression and belonging (NIH, 2023). This form of play creates a sense of freedom and exploration, confidence, and draws on years of socio-cognitive developmental models and theories. It is simple, but so profound. It brings tears to my eyes as I reflect on the absence of this is in so many lives.
As a Ph.D. in counseling, I’m often assumed to see the world through a slanted, clinical lens. But I would argue that what I see is actually rawer. My work allows me to hold the two extremes side by side: the joy of children squealing with laughter in their freedom, and the deep ache of adults who never had that. I see survivors who sit across from me with flat affect, carefully guarded, often unsure if they are allowed to take up space, to think their own thoughts, or to disagree without fear. For them, the absence of play in childhood was not simply the absence of games — it was the absence of freedom itself. Pair this with neglectful behaviors from parents or an authoritarian presence, the child is trapped in a world where survival becomes the goal rather than convincing mom and dad to buy the cute, sparkly hoolahoop from dollar general.
When I watch children running toward the park, light-up shoes flashing, laughter echoing, I see more than a moment of fun. I see what developmental psychologists have confirmed for decades — that play is a rehearsal space for adulthood. It fosters imagination, problem-solving, cooperation, and resilience. And when it is stolen through trauma, neglect, or violence, the ripple effects are lifelong. Adults who were denied this freedom often spend years in therapy relearning the basics of joy, trust, and safety that others absorbed naturally in the neighborhood park.
It is precisely because of this contrast that I notice childhood joy so powerfully that it does make me emotional to see. The play I see from my car window is not “small” ... it is evidence of health and power. It is evidence of safety and support. It is evidence of parents who, in the thousand invisible choices of daily life, made space for their children’s freedom and autonomy to explore. This small action will have ginormous effects on their development as they get older. And for those who didn’t have that, those whose parents never even thought of the simple joy of a hoolahoop let along their child's well-being, the work of therapy often begins with giving the self-permission: permission to imagine, permission to play, permission to disagree. Permission to be and explore you.
https://www.cdc.gov/child-abuse-neglect/about/index.html
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK567767/
