Dampening The Joy of Children

Kids bring light and warmth into a room, and yet we tend to smother their enthusiasm without even realizing we're doing it. A child can swing from pure bliss to being madder than a wet hen in a matter of seconds. Most of the time, though, the only signals we tune into are the screaming and the meltdowns. We also pick up fast on that strange silence that usually means something naughty or dangerous is underway, and we snap to attention the moment one of them gets hurt. The quieter pleasures get missed. When was the last time you actually savored a burst of giggling, or eavesdropped on two toddlers deep in their own private negotiation?

Childhood feelings tend to arrive unfiltered, in their rawest shape, and even the still moments carry something worth paying attention to. Not long ago I sat and watched a two-month-old sleep. She was so quiet I nearly forgot she was in the room at all, and that was its own small reward.

Consider why "childish" gets used as an insult. There was an era when the rule was that children should be seen and not heard. Everything ran on a schedule. Babies got fed roughly every two hours, and a hungry cry in between feedings meant waiting it out. Bottles won out over breastfeeding, partly because nursing was too unpredictable and got in the way of other things, and partly because a bottle could be handed to someone other than the mother. Growing up under that regime could be a frustrating business.

The natural highs of being young were brushed aside, treated as inconvenient. Kids were shooed outside to play so mom could get her work done and keep them out of her hair. A playpen sat in the home of nearly anyone raising little ones.

Years of work as a play therapist taught me how to watch a child at play and step into it, since play is the world a child actually lives in. I was never going to pass as another kid, so I couldn't be a genuine playmate, but I could enter that world and take part, ideally in a way that helped. The same skill carries over to my grandchildren now. I have a sense of how to turn reading a book or messing around into something they're part of, and I get a kick out of it myself. My rules are fewer than their parents', and I let the clock run looser.

Dig back into your own early years and pull up the good parts. Spend less energy managing and more time genuinely enjoying the kid in front of you. That kind of fun spreads.

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