I’ve always tried not to be that helicopter parent. I adhere to lots of my own rules like kids should have time to play at home, be creative, be bored. Some experts even say it’s good for kids. (Apparently mine don’t adhere to the rules of this story – they lunged for the iPads all weekend and I had to pry them out of their sweaty hands.)
But after last weekend of doing absolutely nothing, (heck it was too cold outside last Sunday to do anything anyway), I’ve given up on under-programming. Because it under-delivers on me being a good mom. My bored kids are killing me!
How many times can I run a football drill in the basement (the flea flicker! the y pattern! the I’m going to slant this way, come back and get the ball and go out for a long pass) without my newly manicured fingers getting calloused? How many times do I have to break up a fight between a 55 lb. 6.5 year old and his pipsqueak brother? (Who do you think won, btw?) How many times do I have to suffer through elongated games of Battleship that have no end in sight?
My kids don’t just play silently with trucks like this unfortunate looking boy in random web clip art. The little one may start to make up imaginary games and such, but only long enough for the eldest to crush his dreams of the best WWII airport in modern times.
My kids are too bored. Sorry all you psychologists.
So after some hemming and hawing about not interfering with their
iPad time creative juices, I took matters into my own hands. Drastic times call for drastic measures. One sport is not enough for my eldest so now he’s in TWO! Instead of sitting at home this Saturday watching whatever sport is on TV or running errands we are driving an hour to a glacial formation landfill to get their little bodies MOVING.
Because I have this theory that little boys are like little puppies. They need exercise. They need to run around, and this cold, dry, oddly-snowless winter is creating few opportunities for movement.
Either that or mommy may call up that chopper and fly far, far away.