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Let kids be kids, gross gadget and gags are part of growing up.
What's happened, it seems, is that I've drunk the Kool-Aid of contemporary United states parenting. The thoughts goes similar to this: The earlier our brood initiate racking up information and experiences — whether or not it's learning Mandarin or else perfecting their sidestroke — the superior their permanent chances for happiness and success. (Plus, there's this dirty little secret: A lot of parenting is, not to put too fine a point on it, boring. Which would you rather do: watch your kid play in grime or cheer her on as she learns how to sing "Tomorrow" and make jazz hands at a Broadway Toddlers class?) Failing to fill your children's life with stimulating prepared activities is seen as — well, if not kid mistreatment, at least a form of neglect, because a kid's self-worth is unswervingly connected to his or her ability to master stuff. The more stuff, the better. Right?
Wait. Children learn by hanging out with friends and just playing? Playing? What possibly will a 2-year-old perhaps be learning by crawling in and out of a big package, as mine used to do (often ignoring the present that was in the box)? It seems that, a lot. Since that box might be a rocket, or a pirate boat — who knows? Some specialists go even more in resistance of plain-old play, asserting that too much structured time and too many complex toys actually obstruct development.
Hard to believe? Well, possibly that's since many adults have a kind of loss of memory about what was important to us growing up. We (and with "we," I suggest I) tend to believe, Well, it's a harder globe than the single we grew up in, and our children should be taught to compete on the reality show called, um, Reality. Therefore we witness unstructured play as a waste of time.
There's in truth no sense to end kids from having a first-rate time - let's let them enjoy their fart jokes and gags and have a good time before they grow up. Growing up isn't that much fun in actual fact, after all.
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