My child started watching this show on Kids YouTube called “Ryan’s Toy House.” It’s obnoxious and loud and startlingly annoying. But, my child absolutely loves it. I don’t even try to understand why, I just watch with him. One day, I had had enough. I couldn’t watch my son watch this child play with his parents any longer. I said, “Everett, we are going to do this ourselves—follow me to the playroom.”
We set up our own “YouTube,” otherwise known as “videos” on my iPhone, and started recording ourselves playing with trains and monkeys, drones, and play kitchen food. It was a moment in time where I could physically feel his joy just being in my interactive presence. You know that saying, “We were together; I forget the rest?” No truer words have ever been spoken about the love that exists inside the walls of your home when you’re completely in tune and engaged with your child.
We wish all this intangible goodness for our kids. We strive for it. We work crazy hard for it. We want to make sure they look perfect in their school photos. Let’s face it, their rooms are usually better decorated than ours. We give them the best school, the best hair cut, the best toys, the coolest “stuff.” We check off all the things—all the boxes. We try and we try and we try.
Here’s the thing:
That boy sitting on the couch doesn’t give a toot if you spent $5 or $50 dollars on his new matching family Christmas pajamas. He won’t know that you’re rushing around to get those last-minute Christmas cards stamped, sealed, and delivered. You know those ones where everyone is color coordinated? No, all he yearns for is a loving parent who is willing to sit with him and make silly toy review videos. Or race him in Nintendo’s Mario Kart. Or read a book. Or play. There’s no finish line for this kind of play. It’s not linear and it usually won’t make much sense at all.
I’ve learned to let him be messy and to be little. It takes us a long time to do things most days and some people will never understand. But those people must not be moms. Or maybe they forgot. Because when I see my son, and I mean really see him, I become part of his world—and in this world unnecessary items don’t hold any currency. It’s simply fluff and excess. In his world, we are authenticity, kindness, learning, and love. It’s a magical place to share a home with a 5-year-old.
I wish no ill will on Ryan and his loving family. I’m sure they are wonderful people and my guy truly adores their son. But, I hope that as we continue to find our footing as parents of a growing boy, we work on playing more than we consume, we give as much as we take, and we savor more than we hurry.
