Julie Jay: Is it necessary for parents to bring out their child’s inner Don Conroy?
I’ve never minded getting a hen-party invite as long as it doesn’t involve anything more than one night away from my own shower plug-hole. But these sorority events can make my blood run cold. My aversion isn’t the thought of the Mr and Mr Quiz (some things a mother-in-law should never know, such as whether or not her son has a hairy back; or if his fianceé’s breathing is his pet peeve), nor do I mind the random amalgamation of people who have gathered to celebrate a woman they may be related to, have lived with in college, or are currently embroiled in some sort of legal dispute with.
No, what causes me to lose sleep about these somewhat medieval celebrations is the prospect of ‘organised fun’. Life drawing (if I wanted to see a willy, I’d stay at home), cocktail making (I’m never making one at home for fear the shaking might wake the baby), or, worse yet, an obstacle course involving mud and ritual humiliation.
The parenting trend for organising children’s fun — namely setting up elaborate activities — is testing my natural aversion to organised fun. Never one not to jump on the bandwagon, I have fallen down a rabbit hole of organising crepe paper swans and fashioning fishing rods out of paper clips, in true MacGyver style.
That said, I have, more than once, considered whether this is truly necessary to bring out a child’s inner Don Conroy. Is part of the fun not in them working all these things out for themselves, with a little guidance and encouragement and trips to the stationery shop along the way?
Just this week, I bumped into a lovely mother on the street, and we mourned for a time when throwing children out the back with a saucepan and wooden spoon constituted doing your bit for stimulating their creativity. If you are of a certain vintage, you may be surprised to hear that a wooden spoon can be used for make-believe activities and isn’t just an idle threat used by parents to elicit a child’s co-operation. Rumour has it that in some cultures, wooden spoons are even deployed for cooking and baking: Another classic example of Americans taking something inherently Irish and missing the point entirely.
Although I tell myself I am fairly chill when it comes to children and play, the Instagram algorithm doesn’t lie. My ‘suggested feed’ is a litany of crafty mammies going above and beyond to make sure their child doesn’t have to suffer one nano-second of boredom. I am the number-one culprit for commenting on these reels to secure my free pamphlet of crafty ideas, which are sent directly to my inbox.
Even reading through these has me wanting to take to the bed, such is the level of organisation involved. Please note that what our transatlantic parents may describe as ‘minimal effort’ does not necessarily match an Irish level of minimal effort, especially given that, for us, ‘heading to Target’ would involve a return flight to North America. As much as we’d all love more colourful egg cups, our carbon footprint would make this egg cup fantasy hard to justify.
Of course, all of this is to be commended, and it is clear that the children are having a great time. However, sometimes I wonder about the cost of this human labour. In my experience, getting up 30 minutes earlier to set up an activity for my small fella will keep him occupied for approximately 2.5 minutes before he turns his attention to more interesting play things, like washing mammy’s passport and shredding her revenue letter. I’m no mathematician, but that means I am wasting 27.5 minutes I could be putting to good use, like comparing myself unfavourably to my peers on Instagram.
Still, it’s hard not to give kudos to the mammies who are drawing hopscotch on the floor, colour-coding water balloons, and planning treasure hunts with a series of differentiated clues, depending on the age of the treasure hunter in question. In the face of such dedication, even Mary Poppins would feel like she was operating at 40% capacity, given that her main entertainment trick was letting the children in her charge rummage around in her handbag.
Admittedly, my handbag could provide hours of fun for prospective treasure hunters: soaking-wet passports, remnants of Revenue reports, numerous nail scissors, and some permanent markers, just in case we are ever moved to poetry in a public toilet.
A friend prides herself on being steadfast on zero screen time. “Bored children are creative children,” she says, and although I think there’s a lot of truth in that, I think children have to work with something. Toy googly eyes, some toilet roll holders, scissors as blunt as a YouTube comment, and a selection of crayons will usually suffice, and if you do want to channel your inner Don Conroy, absolutely do, but just remember: sometimes doing less is more when it comes to setting up activities. After all, necessity breeds MacGyvers.