My heart was in the right place thinking a sensory bin would be an awesome way to occupy my kids that first long winter with two under two. My kids loved it. But the mess in my house had me warning parents for years, maybe don’t try that rice bin at home.
My first mistake was buying a 20-pound bag of rice, which simply put, is too much rice. I got tiny dinosaurs, colored measuring cups, and a decent-sized bin. Aside from dying the rice fun colors, it was pretty close to Pinterest-worthy.
In an attempt to mitigate the mess, I placed a sheet on the floor and unleashed my kids to have some not-so-well-contained fun. Setting up on carpet was mistake number two.
Mistake number three was thinking I could keep my cool in the midst of the mayhem. Instead, they gleefully showered the house in rice as I neurotically tried to scoop it up and dump it back in the bin.
I knew when the baby crawled into the bin as the toddler dumped scoops of rice over his head, that my threshold for messy fun had been annihilated. I snapped the lid on and put the bin away indefinitely.
It took me much longer to clean up than it did to conclude it was a terrible idea. After spending 20 minutes picking rice out of the baby’s hair and another half hour vacuuming five pounds of rice out of my carpet, I vowed never again.
But as I find myself quarantined with my two eager sons, I think maybe the only mistake I made with the rice bin was worrying about the mess. I was so fixated on the cleanup and teaching my kids to play neatly that I missed an even more important lesson.
Kids need a certain amount of uninhibited freedom while playing. As long as they’re being safe and respectful of each other, messes are ok, even necessary. Too often I’ve cut their fun short because I didn’t want to deal with the clean-up.
More and more, I find myself saying yes to the mess. It started when my youngest was about three. He was constantly underfoot in the kitchen and begging me to help. One day, I said ok. I figured some flour on the countertops had to be better than listening to myself shoo him out of my way in increasingly loud decibels.
To my surprise, I learned he has a talent for measuring and pouring without spilling a single drop. He’s my new helper in the kitchen and at five, I can trust him to get himself a glass of milk unsupervised. I also learned that if something interests your child, it’s imperative to give them a chance.
Even in the situations where a big mess is inevitable, I’ve learned to keep my cool. While walking in the woods recently, we encountered a large muddy wetland. My initial instinct was to hold them back. “Stay out of the water! Leave the frogs alone!” But how much fun is staying clean? And more importantly, we were out there to learn and explore. I realized that only happens knee-deep in the muck.
While I’ve never mustered the patience for another rice bin, I have rethought my previous banishment of things like play-doh and slime. Much to their delight, I’ve even let them make their own. When my boys are given a little responsibility over their projects and the aftermath, they’ve proven to me time and again they’re up for the challenge of acting responsibly.
I’ve always admired their teachers for their willingness to let kids destroy their classrooms in the process of learning. Participating in these activities at home helped me see the value in the practice, both educational and sentimental. Not only are they engaging all of their senses and building motor skills, but we’re also making memories as a family.
They’ll never remember that at times our floors were clean enough to eat off of. But they will remember the times their mom said yes to the mess, rolled her sleeves, and joined in the fun.
