Role Reversal

At the advice of some readers following a recent post concerning anger, I’ve been delving into the book “Playful Parenting” by Lawrence J. Cohen this past week. One of the types of play he suggests is a simple role reversal, where the child gets to play at being the typically “powerful” figure and the adult plays the “powerless”.

For example, I played a role-reversal game with my reluctant-pottying three-and-a-half year-old in which he was the “dad” and I was the “kid”, and he had to get me to use the bathroom and get dressed after breakfast. I really hammed it up–whining, stomping about, and begging to not have to do it–while he laughed and laughed. Amazingly, he just kept gently saying, “use the potty” over and over until I finally gave in. Then, when I was all done I would give a little wink and let “daddy” know it was his turn, which he usually took without much fuss. I was always careful to let him know when the game was over and I was Mom again, so the role reversal didn’t get confusingly dragged into the rest of our day.

The reason I’ve had so much time to read “Playful Parenting” is because I’ve had more laying-around-on-the couch opportunities recently. Not pandemic-related nor strictly weather-related, I actually took a fall on some slick packed snow-ice and injured my tailbone. If this has ever happened to you, you may understand how uncomfortable the common activity of “sitting” can be.

All of this to say, I experienced another role reversal recently. And it wasn’t a funny game. Has it ever happened to you, as a parent or caregiver, that you’ve suddenly become the one in need of care? It can be hard to adjust to the new role and poignant too, when the switch is with your own child.

I wrote a short poem about it, so I’ll leave you with the rough draft . . .

It only takes a moment to lose one's footing
to find oneself smacked down on the ice
shocked by waves of pain

slowly regaining my feet
I become follower
instead of leader
gripping my young daughter's arm
as she finds the least treacherous path for us
back to the house

with love, Anita