Less is more

I think people sometimes get the impression that I must be one of those hyper-involved helicopter or snowplow parents because I take such an interest in parenting and because I continually try to be a better mother by holding myself to my chosen standard.  That's very far from the truth.  A good chunk of the time, less is more. 

A couple of weeks ago I was at the playground watching Felix play with another boy slightly older than him (he had just turned 2), and I realized after a few minutes that the father of the other boy was giving me the stink-eye.  Well, it wasn't full-on stink-eye, but it was definitely a quizzical sideways glance, trying to figure out what I was doing.  Or not doing, as it were.

This dad, we'll call him Lance because he was decked out in cycling gear, was very engaged with his little boy.  I mean, VERY engaged.  Excessively engaged.  Their stroller was full of sports equipment - regulation sized football and soccer ball, and a miniature (real, not play) tennis racket and ball - and Lance and Lance Jr were tossing the football back and forth.  Lance was keeping up an enthusiastic commentary - "Way to go, LJ, what a toss!  You're going to be a great football player!  Throw back to Daddy!  WHOA, what a catch!" and so on.

I sit calmly on the complete opposite end of the interactive spectrum when we're at the park.  If Felix isn't playing with another kid, then I fill the role of playmate and chase him, go down slides with him, play peek-a-boo, but follow his lead on what activity he'd like to do.  Run through the field?  Wonderful, I'll chase you.  Swings?  Great, I'll push you.  When he finds another playmate, I fade away to the background and monitor, ready to intervene before sand gets thrown, but otherwise I'm a silent chaperone.

When Felix approached LJ to play with the ball (throwing a ball back and forth is his ABSOLUTE FAVORITE), I faded back, thinking Lance and I would chat while the little ones played.  Instead, it became a three-way game and Lance kept up the commentary while including Felix.  "Throw it to me, Felix!  Oh, well that was a nice try, maybe next time it will go farther."

All the while Lance is glancing over at me, no doubt wondering why I wasn't jumping in or telling him "good job" every time he threw the ball.  And I'm watching him thinking, "Bro, just let the f^&*ing kids play!"  

Every time LJ threw the ball to Felix he looked to his dad for his response.  Every single time.  If his back was to his dad, he would turn around and look at him expectantly, like "How did I do?"

That is precisely what I want to avoid.  I don't want Felix to look for me for approval; I want him to just enjoy throwing the ball.  I don't want to teach him to be disappointed when it doesn't go far.  I don't want him to think that his self-worth has anything to do with how far he threw the ball, or with what I think about it.  

All of the commentary - the good jobs and the way to gos - just serve to suck the simple joy out of play by casting judgement on it, albeit a positive one.  And the oh, it's okays when the ball doesn't go far or when they don't catch it, is shielding them from a nonexistent threat.  They don't even know the difference between a good and bad throw until you tell them, so there's no need to protect them from disappointment.  A child doesn't need to know that it was a good throw; they already know that it was a fun throw.  

Fun should be the only motivating factor in a 2 year old's play, not good.  And they already know how to find fun, so your job is done!  Well, you know, other than keeping them safe blah blah blah... ;)