Our family was miserable for the first two weeks of summer this year, all because one of my children was generally disagreeable. He completely forgot his manners, barked commands at everyone (including his parents) and practiced sarcasm on everyone he met (“Ice cream? Why wouldn’t I want ice cream?). Finally, after putting up with attitude for far too long, I regained my senses, looked at him and asked, “What is WRONG? WHAT is going on?”
He promptly burst into tears.
“None of my friends are at day care this summer. I have no one to play with. And I’m bored!”
Is that it?
Here’s where I wanted to say something like, “Oh, suck it up, buttercup! Why, when I was your age I was bored all the time in the summer. And look how I turned out! No one ever died of boredom. ”
But no. What I said was “I understand it must be hard for you to not have your friends around you, but surely you can find some new people to play with for the next couple of weeks until everyone comes back…
…and no one ever died of boredom.”
It’s true. Boredom is one of the defining elements of childhood summers, like scraped knees and ice cream. What child hasn’t sighed deeply and yawned at least once, when faced with the unbridgeable chasm between June and September? It doesn’t really matter whether you’re a kid at camp, at home, or on a never-ending roadtrip with your parents: summer is always, in part, kind of boring.
And well it should be. As Katrina Onstad states in her Saturday piece in the Globe and Mail, “boredom matters because it makes room for its contrast: the burning joy of being alive.”
I actually want my kids to experience boredom once in a while. They need the room to root around in their imaginations, unfettered. They need time to daydream. And they need the motivation to do so, and escaping boredom is the perfect excuse. We live our lives so quickly, with the rushing around from school to activities to dinner. What I wouldn’t give for them to have nothing to do but live in their heads, ride their bikes, explore everything from the woods to cracks in the ceiling, and slow down. If they end up complaining to me that they’re bored, I might be tempted to look at them, wink, and pronounce, “I hope so”.