My column in this weeks’ Greenville News. Enjoy the kids when they’re home! And Merry Christmas!
My children, about whom you have read for nearly 20 years now, are growing up. The oldest will turn 20 this month; the youngest will turn 14 next month. And there’s those other two, in the middle, how old are they? Oh yeah, 15 and nearly 18. (The curse of the middle child.)
Our firstborn is in college nearby, living with friends. The others are so busy with coursework that even though they live at home, as autumn passes I seem to see them less and less. They are forever consumed with papers and tests, reading assignments and other projects.
And yet, despite their advancing ages and exploding maturity, they love home. They love home because they love familiarity and comfort. Because they love to eat and sleep and relax without being in charge of everything. They love sitting by the fire and playing games; times when they can slip comfortably into sweat-pants, t-shirts…and childhood.
During these times of rest and relaxation, they occupy themselves in many ways, from staring at the many screens in their possession to simply and joyously tormenting one another. A favorite game? ‘Tiny Punches,’ wherein three corner the fourth and hit him, or her, repeatedly with very short punches. I have received this treatment; and when I find myself in a corner with three of the children around me looking at one another, I know what’s coming.
In years past, there were others. Avalanche involved building a huge wall of pillows and blankets and collapsing it on one another. Another game required that they jump from the landing onto a pile of pillows; beneath which one might find a concealed dumbbell for an extra soft landing. And there was the static torture. Wrap a sibling, or parent, in a fluffy blanket, in the dry air of the basement, then rub it as hard as possible. I swear, I wish I knew how much charge that generates. I recall the pain and the sparks. (Works well on a trampoline also.) I’m just glad I didn’t have a pacemaker.
I am not suggesting you play these games; unless you’re feeling bold. (Like one-legged kick-fight, it can end badly.) I am suggesting that our children, even as young adults, are still children. As we should all be, I believe. It’s at Christmas that we recover those simple joys and simpler times.
Modern culture likes to pretend that high school and college kids are the end all, be all of worldly wisdom and education. To which I say ‘nuts.’ They’re bright and articulate and culturally aware. But they’re still, in so many ways, immature. To us, their parents, they’re still children. And they always will be. It’s why we constantly ask them if they need anything, it’s why we load them up with everything from food to toilet paper when they leave. And why we hug them out of the blue. (A thing they secretly love.)
Granted, at 18 they can vote and go to war. And they can, at 21, drink alcohol. (An odd and probably inappropriate dichotomy in my opinion, but that’s another column.) But they don’t know enough yet. Nowhere near enough. Because a huge part of successful learning is simply born of living through a lot of things. Thus, sadder-but-wiser parents share wisdom with enthusiastic-but-vulnerable offspring.
This Christmas, as the kids come home, as they unwind from exams, as they look for the comfort of friends and laughter and as they seem to sleep like the dead, remember that they are also seeking the wonderful joy of the familiar and the safe. They want to let their guards down and know the simplicity of childhood once more. Best of all, in the process, they are giving us a gift as parents. They are saying, without so many words, ‘I still need you and I’m glad I’m yours.’
So if you find yourself in a house suddenly bereft of chips and soda, if you find the television occupied by video games, and notice that you are being ambushed by large kids who look vaguely like the little ones who lived there not so long ago, take it for what it is.
It’s a blessing of the first order, to have children who still need you. Please proceed to enjoy every second. Because if you do, they’ll just keep coming back. And eventually, they’ll bring more with them.