The other day as I was out on my usual run, I spied a tree hut in a lone pine. It made me reminisce about the good old days. Back when I was a lad, building huts, playing bullrush, climbing trees and – horror – making our own way to school was the norm. It’s true that a few kids fell out of trees, a few knees were grazed from falling off bikes and quite a number of fingernails were lost to errant hammer blows. Notwithstanding all of those negative impacts, however, seemingly dangerous play built within us grit and resilience, dexterity and awareness.

Those days seem well and truly a distant memory as we navigate a time when children don’t seem to be able to function without 24/7 connection to their parents. When they can’t get themselves to school under their own steam and when the only fort they build is in a thoroughly sanitised and padded enclosure where every potential risk has been removed.

And while that sounds very much like the rant of a person living in a distant time, it would seem to be a perspective that is finding more widespread favour. I recently read that the Canadian Paediatrics Association is now recommending that children engage in so-called risky play. As the association sees it, “thrilling and exciting forms of free play that involve uncertainty of outcome and a possibility of physical injury” are beneficial because of what they do for kids in terms of problem-solving, mental-strength and physical dexterity. Essentially they’re saying that in a world full of challenges, having an internal way of assessing risk (as opposed to simply taking a checklist at face value) is beneficial,

So I’d advocate that we forget bubble wrap playgrounds and helicopter parenting. For those who wail about their darlings being exposed to life-threatening risk – dangerous play isn’t about blind recklessness; it’s about embracing calculated challenges that ignite a child’s spirit and sculpt invaluable life skills. Imagine a playground devoid of fear, where scrapes are badges of honour and daring leaps build confidence. This isn’t a fantasy; it’s the power of risky play.

Research details the benefits that risky play can bring. Neurologically, it’s a veritable brain fiesta. Scaling monkey bars or constructing elaborate forts ignites neural pathways, amplifying critical thinking, problem-solving, and decision-making abilities. Imagine tiny neurons firing like sparklers, forging connections that will enhance cognitive function for years to come. If we have an epidemic of dementia now, imagine how it’ll be once the current generation, who have never had to develop brain-plasticity, age.

Moving beyond thinking, however, the sort of play we used to get up to as kids builds emotional capacity – conquering that climb or navigating a precarious balance beam teaches children to manage fear, embrace uncertainty, and develop resilience. Each conquered challenge whispers “you can do it,” building a fortress of confidence that equips them to face future obstacles with grit and determination. Again, in a world where social media amplifies young people’s self-doubt, a childhood including copious doses of dangerous play can counter that toxicity.

And beyond the mind, there’s the body. Just one look at our youth obesity statistics will tell you this is important – balancing acts, daring climbs, and active pursuits strengthen muscles, enhance coordination, and cultivate spatial awareness.

Good for the mind. Good for the emotions. Good for the body. What’s not to like? But even that triumvirate is bettered by the life lessons that risky play can bring.

In exploring their personal limits, kids learn to assess risks, make decisions within the context of those risks, and bounce back from the inevitable setbacks that they encounter. Sound like some useful skills for later in life? I’d suggest that the things we need to master as we navigate study, careers, relationships, families and all the other things that we, as adults, are expected to deal with.

Of course, I’m not just saying we chuck kids into some kind of Game of Thrones environment and let them scrap it out to see who survives. We are the adults after all and hence the environment in which kids play needs sensible boundaries and our own calculation of risk. Let kids play at a work bench with a handsaw, for example, but maybe leave the skillsaw in the workshop for a few years.

The world beckons with its complexities and challenges. By embracing risky play, we equip children not just with skills, but with a spirit of adventure. We nurture confidence, resilience, and the ability to navigate life’s uncertainties with grace and strength. So, let’s step away from the bubble wrap and encourage our children to embrace the thrill of calculated challenges. Remember, they’re not fragile porcelain dolls; they’re wildlings waiting to explore, and in that exploration, they’ll discover the vibrant tapestry of their potential.

Oh and if anyone wants to let their kids play in a particularly high treehouse – we’ve got one at our place.

Ben Kepes

Ben Kepes is a technology evangelist, an investor, a commentator and a business adviser. Ben covers the convergence of technology, mobile, ubiquity and agility, all enabled by the Cloud. His areas of interest extend to enterprise software, software integration, financial/accounting software, platforms and infrastructure as well as articulating technology simply for everyday users.

1 Comment
  • Once again, Ben, a thoughtful, common sense and engaging commentary.
    I agree with everything you have noted 100%.

    As I get closer to 60, I am enormously thankful for the scrapes, failures, adventures and lessons learned from a childhood lived exactly as described.
    My dad was a tradie; my mum eminently practical and capable. Both intelligent, curious and loving but quite happy for us to explore physical and mental limits growing up.

    Like you, my kids are encouraged to build, fix, experiment, ride, crash and get patched up. They have the keys to the shed.

    I do, however, get a bit tired of hunting for my power tools and expensive torque wrench.

    Love your work.
    Brett

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