Let Them Be Bored

“I’m bored.”

Did I mention that I have a tween and a teenager in addition to a toddler? I did, but I have been so wrapped up in the small one that I haven’t yet published anything I’ve written about the older two.

I’m a stepmom in a 50/50 household – one week on, one week off – which means I’ve had a front-row seat to different ages, rhythms, and needs.

This article is about all three kids, ages fourteen, eleven, and one.

At least one time every day, and usually multiple times, one of my older kids comes meandering into the room with an announcement.

They’re bored.

I was a stepparent before I was a biological parent and had not been around kids much in the first 36 years of my life. My experience with kids being bored went all the way back to being bored when I myself was a child.

Cue the panic.

“What do you want to do?”

Shrug.

“How about this? Or this? Or this?”

I turned boredom into a game I had to win. I wasn’t helping, I was teaching them to avoid discomfort.

Everywhere you look, there are ideas for entertaining kids.

Almost no one talks about what happens when you don’t.

Boredom is not a bad thing. Boredom teaches your kids to figure it out, use their minds, and entertain themselves.

It starts young. Fast forward from 36 to 39, when I gave birth to my first biological child. She was tiny, squishy, loud, and gassy. She needed me all the time, for everything.

Then, one day, she didn’t. I am in the era when, at 14 months old, my daughter can play by herself, without me. Of course, I supervise closely. I am in the same room.

She can sit with simple, open-ended toys – dolls, her teapot, or toy cars – the kinds of things that don’t do the playing for her, for a few minutes and get lost in her own little world.

The transition is subtle, and if you are like me, it induces a soft tinge of grief: she needs me less. Just a little less, but less nonetheless.

Now when my older kids saunter in to announce their boredom, I don’t panic. I don’t ask questions. I don’t throw myself into entertaining them.

Sometimes I offer a list of things they can do, but those things don’t include me. I remind them of their toys, weeds that need pulling, dogs that would love a walk. Conversations go a lot more like this:

“I’m bored,” says my daughter.

“Good,” I say, “figure it out.”

And then, through the chasm of my memory, I hear echoes of my mother telling me the same thing. I think it’s something we have forgotten. It goes hand in hand with sending your kids outside and telling them you don’t want to see them for an hour.

Let your kids figure it out. Let them be bored.

Let them make messes, get dirty, discover things they weren’t looking for. Let them scrape their knees, build forts at the park, turn over rocks, find things.

It starts with something as small as that inevitable statement, “I’m bored.”

Instead of filling the space, you leave it open. That’s where they learn to build something of their own.

What This Looks Like At Our House

When my kids need something to do, I almost always point them outside, weather permitting. They have bikes, balls, games, plants, animals, and an entire world waiting for them out there. Even when my toddler is fussy, taking her outside with me takes the edge off.

My rules of thumb:

• I do not jump to fix boredom

• I do not offer myself as entertainment

• I point them toward the world (outside, toys, chores, imagination)

• Then I step back

  
  

Later, once you’ve empowered them to entertain themselves, they will come and tell you about it. They may be filthy, but they will be happy, and even better – they will be a little more independent, confident, and their imaginations will be alight.