My whole existence as a parent has been skewed by one glib headline in a glossy magazine.
When you’re a parent drowning in the flood of emotions, irrationality, and various fluids that come out of young children, certain simple fixes can seem like magic bullets.
The fix I’m thinking of came from an article I happened upon about four years ago when my youngest son was just a toddler and my older son was still in preschool. It was in one of those popular parenting magazines, Parenting Illustrated or Guns & Ammo & Small Children or something like that.
I never recalled much about the article except for the title, which has stuck with me since I first laid eyes on it. The title was “How to Raise a Chill Kid.”
Wow. Perfect. That’s what everyone wants – a Chill Kid. Forget those regular kids with all their meltdowns and smashed windows and reservations at the emergency room. Give me one of those Chill Kids so we can just skip the Pokemons and go straight to quietly lounging at a poolside patio sipping mocktails over a game of Backgammon.
The article actually had some decent tips on how to create this Chill Kid, such as turning your house into a “scream-free zone,” helping your kids identify feelings such as anger or frustration, and encouraging calming techniques such as deep breathing and silly dancing.
It all sounded so easy! Follow the guidelines, and boom! Chill Kid. Virgin Margaritas for everyone!
I revisited this article last week and was surprised to note that my wife and I actually have implemented lot of the practices mentioned in the piece in an effort to raise a couple of very chill West Coast dudes. And of course when I say “my wife and I,” I mean just my wife – my most important parental duties involve trapping insects in the house and teaching my kids the names of all of the Toronto Blue Jays on the 40-man roster.
The surprise came because although we have implemented many of these techniques, my kids have zero chill. Like, no chill whatsoever. Cool as a solar flare. No chill.
I’ve always known that my kids run hot. Before he could crawl or even roll over, my older son would lie on his back all day long and kick his legs like he was riding some sort of invisible bicycle. He was like Lance Armstrong except with more spit-up and integrity.
It’s gone on like that ever since, first with one boy and then with two, perpetual motion machines who could always be trusted to turn the most relaxing situation into a hockey riot.
Last weekend, however, I got final confirmation of what I had long suspected: my kids are not “chill” at all. We were down at Lonsdale Quay and happened upon the great new waterfront plaza beside Polygon Gallery. It’s a wonderful public space highlighted by a water feature containing a few perfect climbing boulders spaced out on a spongy surface over which a thin stream of water flows. It’s the perfect place to splash around, cool off and relax on a hot summer day. Key word: relax.
That, at least, is how any person with even the tiniest bit of chill would view this neat meeting place. Not my kids though, because they have no chill. Telling them to relax is like asking a tornado to blow a little softer – the request will likely be ignored, and there’s a good chance you’ll get hit in the head with a tractor.
As soon as we got to the new Lonsdale plaza my sons concocted a game whereby one of them would try to run from one side of the water to the other, dodging boulders and babies all the way, without getting tagged by the other. I’m still not sure how they managed to pull this game off for even a few minutes without christening the new fountain with its first gaping head wound.
They then spied an adorable little boy, maybe a year younger than my youngest son, who was happily splashing one of those little Paw Patrol plastic balls around in the water. My boys very politely approached him about the possibility of getting a little game going, and as soon as the youngster agreed to play he found himself involved in a full-on soccer game with plenty of step-over dribbles, hard tackles, and heated arguments with the referee. Unsuspecting tourists soon found themselves playing the role of Lower Lonsdale goalposts.
The more I think about that fountain scene as well as that magazine article, the more I realize that the problem wasn’t our parenting per se, the problem was expectations. The thing is, I’ve been around a lot of young kids over the last few years through my sons’ classes and various and assorted sports teams, and almost none of them are “chill.” Out of more than 100 kids, I can think of two that I would call “chill.” Maybe three. Five? No chance.
Kids just aren’t very chill, mine even less so than most.
And that’s OK! Go ahead kids, live your life at top speed. I’ll be nearby trying to stay chill, ready to jump in if any head wounds get out of hand. Just try not to spill my mocktail.
Andy Prest is the sports editor for the North Shore News and writes a biweekly humour/lifestyle column. He can be reached via email at aprest@nsnews.com.
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