Some of the most meaningful moments in life don’t come from careful planning.

They come from instinct. From impulse. From letting yourself break the “rules” for just a moment.

Last weekend, my family was outside shoveling snow—for the second day in a row.

You know the kind of task I mean: Cold fingers. Heavy shovels. Teenagers who would rather be doing literally anything else.

We were all drudging through it, counting down until we could finally be done. When the driveway was clear, we stood there for a beat, shovels in hand, breath visible in the air, tired but relieved.

And then… something happened.

Without thinking. Without planning. Without weighing whether it was efficient, mature, or productive…

I grabbed a handful of snow, packed it tight, and threw it at my daughter.

My 17-year-old squealed.

Not a polite laugh. Not an eye roll. A full-on, surprised, joy-filled squeal.

Within seconds, my 14-year-old son jumped in, and a full-blown snowball fight erupted. Laughter. Movement. Chaos. Connection.

It lasted less than five minutes. And yet… the impact lasted the entire day.

When it ended, both kids spontaneously hugged me. Still laughing, my daughter dropped to the ground and made a snow angel. The energy between us shifted. It was lighter, warmer, more affectionate.

Hours later, my son came up to me, wrapped his arms around me, and said: “I’m still thinking about how you started that snowball fight.”

That moment stopped me in my tracks. Because I realized it wasn’t about the snowball fight. It was about play.

We Underestimate Play—Especially as Adults

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that play is optional. Frivolous. Something you earn after everything important is done.

Play gets labeled as childish, irresponsible, a distraction from real life.

And for women—especially working moms—play often feels indulgent at best and irresponsible at worst.

There’s always more to do…someone else who needs something…another task that feels more “worthy” of our time.

So we push play aside. Not intentionally, or dramatically, just…gradually. Until life starts to feel heavy, and connection feels strained, and joy feels like something we vaguely remember but don’t quite access anymore.

Play Is a Shortcut to Connection

What struck me most about that moment wasn’t the laughter. It was what followed: The ease, the affection, the softness in how we interacted with each other afterward.

Play did something that lectures, reminders, and “quality time” plans often struggle to do:

It bypassed resistance.
It dissolved tension.
It created connection without effort.

There were no expectations, no outcomes, no agenda.

Just presence.

And isn’t that what so many of us are craving?

Not more time, or productivity, but more aliveness inside the moments we already have.

Play Is Not the Opposite of Responsibility

This is the reframe I keep coming back to: Play isn’t the opposite of responsibility…burnout is.

Play doesn’t take away from connection…it creates it.

Play doesn’t mean you don’t care…it means you’re willing to be fully here.

That five-minute snowball fight didn’t derail our day. It changed it.

And it reminded me that joy doesn’t need to be scheduled, earned, or optimized. Sometimes it just needs…permission.

I’m not suggesting you add “play more” to your already-full to-do list. I’m simply inviting you to notice:

• Where have you become overly serious?

• Where have you been waiting for permission to lighten up?

• Where might one small, spontaneous moment of play shift the energy—in your home, your relationships, or within yourself?

Because the beautiful thing about play is that it doesn’t have to be big. Or loud. Or planned.

Sometimes it looks like a snowball…
Thrown without thinking…
At just the right moment.

And sometimes, its impact echoes long after the moment has passed.