Lost and Found: The Surprising Power of Play and Relationships

The Find It game in my office

I have this game in my office called Find It. It’s a clear cylinder filled with colorful plastic pellets and a bunch of tiny treasures—think googly eye, pompom, a little plastic star, and alphabet beads for every letter. The goal is simple: find each item and every letter bead.

I’ve had this game for over 20 years, and in all that time, three objects have never been found: the marble, the penny, and the candy cane. Every kid who plays it in my office quickly learns about these elusive items. They’re the ones that keep us from ever fully “winning” the game.

It’s become a running joke, a lesson in frustration tolerance, and a shared experience. Each time we play, the same questions come up:

“Where are the marble, penny, and candy cane?” “Are they even in here? Did I get a dud?" “Should I get another one so we can finally find them?”

Eventually, the game becomes about knowing when to let go.

“Well, we found everything else. Since it’s just the marble, penny, and candy cane left—and they’ve never been found—maybe it’s okay to call it quits.”

The Magic of Playing Together

So now I’m going to tell you a crazy story! A few weeks ago, I was playing Find It with 7-year-old Emma, who I’ve worked with for a few years. She’s had plenty of attempts at this game and knows the frustration it brings.

Emma likes to win. She’ll find a way to win any game, no matter what (I’ll share my thoughts on kids needing to win for another blog post). So, I get why she picks this game as a way to practice frustration tolerance and “losing.”

On this particular day, Emma decided to make it a competition. We each grabbed our own checklist of items, and the first to find them all would be the winner. Usually, we play collaboratively, but this time she monopolized the cylinder, making it tough for me to find the objects.

After we’d both found everything except the infamous three, Emma went to my toy cabinet and pulled out a small box with toy aliens and a metal frog that croaks when you press its clicker.

Using her strong imaginative skills, she asked them to help us find the marble, penny, and candy cane. Then she held the frog to her ear, clicked it a few times, and announced it was giving her a secret message. She thanked the frog, and—following its “instructions”—she rolled the cylinder forcefully across the floor, then handed it to me, announcing,

“Now you do your part.”

I acknowledged the frog’s sage advice, which included us working together—not against one another. I didn’t know what “my part” was, so following her lead, I began to shake the cylinder, alternating that with banging it on the floor. I spoke to the toy in my best magician’s voice:

“Maaaaarble…, showwww yourself. We have been waiting yearrrrrs to see you. Doooooon’t be afraid, we won’t hurt you. It’s ok that you want to hide, but now it’s time to reveeeeal yourself!”

Emma and I leaned over the toy, both of us willing the marble to come out, encouraging it with our words. She kept clicking the frog, bringing him in to join the collaboration. The anticipation was thick—you could feel the energy in the room.

And you are not going to believe what happened next…

The marble appeared! Yep, that’s right. Like a dormant seedling erupting out of the dirt, that marble rose to the top of the plastic pellets after 20 years of hiding!

We screamed. Emma jumped up and ran around my office, hooting and hollering. I rose up on my knees (so we were at the same height) and yelled,

“We found the marble! Oh my gosh, we found the marble! It’s been 20 years—that’s longer than you’ve been alive, Emma! I didn’t even think there was a marble in it!”

We high-fived, absolutely delighted in our obvious magic.

More Magic?

Empowered by the moment, we decided that if the marble was in fact in the toy, then by all means, the penny had to be there, too. So, we repeated our steps.

Emma engaged the frog, who clicked in her ear, advising her on how to go about finding the penny. She then wildly rolled the cylinder on the floor before handing it off to me to do my part: shake it, bang it on the floor, and will that penny to show itself. We encouraged it:

“Pennnnny, be braaave like the marble and shooooow yourself. We’ve been waiting to see you for 20 years!”

And you are not going to believe what happened next…

Yep, that’s right. After 20 years, that penny erupted out from the depths of the plastic pellets! We were beside ourselves—more hooting and hollering, running around, and high-fiving. We were obviously magicians! There was no other explanation.

Within the bubble of our play, something special was happening as a result of our playful collaboration. We were making magic—together!

Now, feeling pretty confident in our magical abilities, we knew we’d find that final object—the candy cane. We repeated our steps: the frog communications, the wild rolling of the cylinder, the hand-off to me, the shaking and banging, our encouragement and magician-voice commands:

“Caaandy caaane, shooooow yourself. Dooon’t hide alone. Join the marble and penny in their bravery and coooome ooout. Shooooow yourself!”

And you are not going to believe what happened next…

We ran out of time.

Yep, that’s right. We had to put the toy away, do our ritual of racing to put our shoes back on (Emma always wins that race), and say good-bye. The session—the play, the magic—was over. 

Back to Reality

I have since played Find It with a few other children, as well as Emma. The marble and penny have gone back into hiding. They have not been spotted again. Emma and I tried to re-create our magical sequence, but to no avail.

Nothing.

Find It is back to being a game of frustration tolerance, even for her. Of course, the dialogue has changed around the elusive three. We know that at least the marble and penny are indeed inside that toy.

But do we…?

I swear, if Emma hadn’t been there with me, I’d wonder if it was all a dream. But our shared experience—the fruits of our collaboration, the thrill of doing the impossible, our joint excitement—are all real. Relationally, we are connected by our memory of this incredible moment in time. I can’t speak for Emma, but I know I will never forget that session.

Why This Matters

In the end, the magic and the power we experienced wasn’t about finding the marble and penny. It was about the authentic connection between us, the creativity, and the shared joy and laughter.

We both had to let down certain guards and be vulnerable with one another to be that absorbed, connected, and free in our play. Emma had to push aside her need to win—to beat me—as she instead invited me to join her in her imaginative inner world. And I had to let go of my adult inhibitions in order to immerse myself alongside her and her inner world.

The magic was (is) in our relationship.

Key Takeaway

Play isn’t just about winning or losing—it’s about connecting, trusting, and finding meaning together.

It’s about the shared joy we experience when we create—make magic—with someone else. The real treasures (and even the missing pieces) appear when we let down our guards, have fun and work together. The magic is in the moments we share, not just the objects we find.