The Diorama: an exercise in giving up the illusion of control

My 3-year-old son is a really quirky kid. I use this word to avoid saying “weird” because of its derogatory connotation and to also not use “neurodivergent” because that feels too committal. He is who he is and we love him for that. We walk through life with him and are only sometimes blindsided by his unyielding enthusiasm for virtual animal races (youtube search “miaw gaming” to try to understand, you still won't) or meltdowns over the length of the tag on the right internal hem of his shirt. He has taught me so much. One such thing is an important lesson in parenting- sometimes you have to admit that you have lost all control.

I will try to set the scene in the most concise way possible, but you may still have a lot of questions (remember, he’s quirky). My son is OBSESSED with animals, and I don’t use that word lightly. His love for all things animal-related is a huge part of his identity insofar as he takes weekly classes to learn how to work on a farm, has a jungle and farm themed bedroom, and at times refuses to wear clothes that don’t have animals on them. He finds it personally insulting if someone does not want to hear facts about animals. In fact, last weekend while at a brewery with family friends he came to me terribly disheartened stating, “my friend doesn’t want to ask me more questions about howler monkeys.” Cue mommy trying to come up with 30 minutes worth of questions about howler monkeys to prevent seeing my little weirdo sad (whoops, I said it).

Anyway, he has accrued a large collection of animal figurines over the years and he has quite the imagination with them. One day he approached me and asked if we could build a “diorama” of the “habitats” of his animals. I loved the idea and we soon were knee-deep in intricate art projects of both a farm and jungle landscape for his animals to play on. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty proud of my our work.

The farm!

The jungle!

I, perhaps naively, assumed that the animals would walk around and explore their new dwellings. With my son being such an expert on all things animals, imagine my surprise when I walked into his room and saw this:

Certainly a health code violation...

Interesting, ok- maybe my expectations were too high. I can’t expect him to know everything about overcrowding, sanitation, and animal cruelty at age 3. 

At the end of the day, I asked him to help me clean up the diorama and was met with an incredulous “no mommy, the animals need to stay in their habitats”. With some back and forth I gleaned that his intention was not to use these beautiful pieces of art as settings for imaginary play, but to create biohazard models that would remain stationary relics in his room. We agreed to at least move it to the side of the room so no one would trip and I figured we’d circle back another day.

Well, you know where this is going. He continued to insist that we do not disrupt the scene for days on end. My biggest concern at the time was that he seemed to have cut himself off from playing with his beloved toys, so I was very excited when the next weekend he asked to make two new dioramas to “play with [his] animals in”. I We got back to work and behold our creations!-The arctic and the sea.

The arctic!

The sea!

Of course, to no one’s surprise but my own the stationary scene continued to grow and soon was just referred to simply as “The Diorama”. We were absolutely not allowed to touch it. My husband expressed concern that it would accumulate dust and I conveyed my discomfort with his ideas around animal welfare. Nevertheless, any request to clean up The Diorama was met with stark resistance.

As you can imagine, things continued to escalate as months passed. Soon some of the animals had migrated from the jungle and were now in magnatile zoo enclosures that jutted out to the middle of the room. The good news was he was playing with the animals again. The bad news: it was Christmas and every person we knew seemed to gift him more and more animal figurines and accessories (not ME- never! Everyone else obviously bought them). To his delight, we soon owned a farm house for the farmers, a treehouse for the forest animals, an “animal doctor” for sick animals, a truck to bring them there, etc. The Diorama continued to grow like a fungus slowly spreading across his room. Picture The Last of Us. 

Fungal propagation

Finally, one day we had enough. We marched up to him and demanded that The Diorama be put away immediately so that there would actually be space to move in his room. We didn’t even flinch as a Richter scale level 9 tantrum ensued. We had finally conquered the clutter!

..just kidding. There was no stopping The Diorama.

What actually happened is eventually we ceded to moving his shelves to another location to allow the expansion that The Diorama required. As things stand today, he has developed a full animal world that circles around half of his room. 

The Diorama as it stands today

(I tend to not take pictures when The Diorama has grown into an out of control state of disarray, but trust me- it does frequently.)

In the end, we lost. Dust is accruing and The Diorama continues to grow. Conditions for the animals have not significantly improved, though accessories such as plastic fruit, hay bales, water bowls, rakes, and shovels were acquired, so some action has been taken to ensure that the residents of The Diorama are cared for.

But.. did we actually lose? Sure, the vision of artistic beauty I had for my son’s bedroom has been dashed, but instead a creative universe of play has evolved. The animals now roam freely around The Diorama and have families with complex social interactions (and drama), participate in elaborate gatherings, and even run thrilling races all born out of his incredible imagination.  He is happy, he is learning, and most importantly he is seeing that his parents support his passions and interests without question (or..not too much question). In us giving up control of what we wanted that room to look like, we gained a son who hears “we see you and we want you to grow and flourish on your own terms.” Of course, this is all within reason- conversations are had when The Diorama starts creeping out of the room. 

In reflecting, this insight feels so important. What would it be like if we didn’t inflict our own values, preferences and judgements onto others? Would it allow space to lean into oneself; to explore, imagine and create lives that are meaningful to the individual alone without being overshadowed by the pressures and expectations of others? 

Theory of mind is the ability to understand that other people have different feelings, thoughts and perspectives than us. While logically it seems simple, in actuality it is inherently difficult to comprehend that the preferences of others are different from one’s own preferences. For example, I can’t fathom how someone could not like ice cream. It’s even harder to deem these differences valid and acceptable.

Yet, we must. Sure, I have ideas of what I would want for the lives of my kids (and patients!), but it’s not my job, or at all possible, to dictate the minds of others. Put simply, I’m not in control of what my son likes or who he wants to be and that’s ok.  What I can do for him is help him realize his passions. I can model and teach resilience, self advocacy, perseverance, and integrity. And I can tell him he’s the shit at every opportunity I get...while, in the name of humility, also remind him that he sucks sometimes. It’s complicated.  

So, to my son: thanks, kiddo, for once again humbling me and helping me to reframe what my work as a parent and psychiatrist really is..and for reminding me I have absolutely no control over my household. I love you and your beautiful mind so, so much.