Before You Piano It

My mom kids us – at least I think she’s kidding – that the activities in which we enroll our daughter may border on superfluity. A early-childhood educator in a past life, she undoubtedly knows what she’s warning against – that of the hurried child – when parents overschedule and micromanage the lives of their children, thus bypassing a critical developmental period that historians have identified as “childhood.” Awareness of this reality isn’t enough to avoid its trappings, for there are plenty of well-intentioned parents who think they’re doing right by pushing their kids.

Reductively speaking, every time we sign our son or daughter up for an extracurricular activity, we’re either enriching our child or crushing a soul. Beni and I would prefer that our kids not resent us later in life, and so we are constantly evaluating and reevaluating the portfolio and extent of Olivia’s (and later Reed’s) commitments. Should we continue with swimming this season? What about Spanish classes? How about art camp?

More generally – and more importantly – we ask ourselves: Does our child even like this camp/class/sport? Is she left with enough time to play with friends? Are we paying attention to feedback? We obviously want to give our children a say in the interests they pursue, but we do want to provide some guidance along the way.

With all this in mind, Beni and I have promised each other that our family unit will remain the hub by which all our spokes connect to and life revolves around. Purposeful centering, it might be called, and it includes scheduled meals, ventures to the park, family vacations, and walks around the neighborhood. It’s a parenting philosophy that’ll give our kids, as they reach adolescence, ample reasons for asserting their independence. But until then, we’re the non-fearsome foursome, ready to experience the riches of the world together – right after Olivia completes her first piano lesson, of course.