The Creativity of Children

So this is the post I came to publish yesterday. Rather than post twice in one day I thought I save this for today. It was born from The Write Practice writing prompt from 22nd August - a short free write around the theme - that I liked enough to share. There's an irony to the fact that the next Write Practice blog I read was about creating a platform by sharing your stories. Consider this one plank of that platform if you like.

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The Creativity of Children

It's a simple box, corrugated cardboard, unassuming; but inside is an doorway to world I can't see. In the hands of a child that drab, brown husk is a spaceship, or a racing car, or a fort, a princess castle or a dolls house. It may be empty to me, but not to a child who sees through an imaginative eye. The empty box is a toy in a child's hand, but a dead thing in mine. My head is filled with documents and spreadsheets, with worries and responsibilities. My creativity is shouted down by practicality. A blank sheet of paper and a few pots of paint combine to form an exciting masterpiece for a child, but it stares up at me, threatening me, daring me to try, mocking that would even consider it. A child, so free: It doesn't matter if it's 'right', it doesn't matter if it's 'good', it doesn't even have to be 'acceptable' because these are adult labels for things that make us afraid when we grow up.

Growing up. That thing we think of as an improvement - growing physically, growing in knowledge and experience - but at what cost? Is it really such an improvement? Give me the empty box. Give me the blank paper. Give me the world through a child's eyes.