Letting boots dry
Can we really engineer resilience in our children in cushioned environment?
Is it wrong of me to wish some discomfort on my children?
Is it wrong that I don’t think I should buy a second snowsuit, even if I could? Is it wrong that I want them to notice that having the newest tech-y toys doesn’t seem to make other kids much happier?
These are thoughts I rarely say out loud because they sounds wrong the moment they leave my head: I want my children to have a less cushioned life.
They wear the same boots everyday in the snow, and if they get wet, they have to wait for them to dry before going back outside. If we could afford some things, such as Nintendo switch, or iPad, or another nerf gun, we would still choose not to buy. If I could order a book for same day delivery, I’d still rather they wait their turn to get the book from the library.
Talking about this feels uneasy because it makes me look unreasonable.
Modern life assumes that if we can afford it, we should have it.
Affordability has replaced a lot of our finer judgment. Thoughts go straight to can we pay for it, and skip the part about whether we should do it, whether something is good, necessary, meaningful. The trouble is that affordability is a financial fact, it’s not a value system. It says nothing about quality, timing, readiness, tradeoffs, or what a child gains from having something now versus later, or not at all. When we can afford it is the final argument, know that discernment has left the building.
If I could afford private figure skating lessons for my children from the start, should I? Will community center lessons not be enough until we can see any talent or passion? If I wanted to drive them to school in the morning instead of walking on a -10°C day, should I? If you can afford the upgrade, and you don’t, you see how choice is easily misread as withholding, rather than being intentional?
This logic has seeped into experiences, traditions, and even entire events.
I overheard a parent talking to a group about how they cooked a full Thanksgiving dinner for their child even though they don’t celebrate, simply because the child asked for it. A turkey in the oven for hours. The whole production. And the group was nodding along, approving the event.
And I caught myself unable to comprehend, is this the expectation?
Should I be orchestrating entire holidays on demand, regardless of meaning, time, or effort, simply because my child has expressed a desire and we can afford the time and expense?
I don’t think so.
Wanting things is not wrong but wanting doesn’t mean we need to automatically provide. For many parents, being responsive turned into “never saying no unless there’s a crisis.” I’m not convinced this serves children as well as assumed.
Children learn to expect their desires fulfilled, and expectation, untampered by limits, makes even small disappointments feel like violations of their “rights”; cue in entitlement.
I am not nostalgic for lack, nor am I pretending that scarcity is noble by default. I am deeply grateful for heat in the winter, cupboards full of food, and the ability to say yes for helpful things. Safety is not negotiable. Basic needs are not character-building exercises to be withheld for philosophical purity for sure. I also hate that I have to write this paragraph for fear of being misunderstood.
I want my children to feel discomfort so they can learn from it, because can we really engineer resilience in our kids in such cushioned environment?
Is it arrogant of me to assume we cannot?
A little discomfort is good for us because it keeps us in contact with reality. It is how we learn to adapt and eventually grow. Without working through inconveniences, the world seems unfair simply for being imperfect.
Dr. Michael Ungar, the founder and Director of the Resilience Research Centre at Dalhousie University, is particularly wary of environments designed to spare children from any discomfort. When adults step in at the first hint of frustration to fix the problem or supply the solution, children can appear calm and capable while essentially missing the capacity to deal with reality because reality has been continually rearranged on their behalf. For the lack of practice, the ability to figure out what to do when things don’t go their way stays underdeveloped.
Another important thread in Ungar’s work is that resilience is not universal in its shape. It depends on context. In affluent environments, resilience often looks like learning to live with limits rather than adding skills and opportunities. In that sense, bringing some reasonable discomfort into our children’s lives, such as walking instead of driving, making do with what we can and choosing not to upgrade simply because it’s possible, is context-appropriate resilience training.
This is why having a toddler on your hands feels like a perpetual crisis. Toddlers embody life without tolerance for delay. They haven’t learned yet that you need to take the pot off the stove first so you can wash the sticky jam off their hands, or that you need time to drop what you are doing to search for the song they wanted to hear. That’s exactly what a human looks like before discomfort has done its work. Without ordinary discomforts and delays, we risk raising older children who still expect the world to reorganize itself around their wants and frustrations (perpetual toddlers), who only know to wait for intervention and rescue. Or worse, learn to interpret discomfort as injustice. The kids need to learn that they can negotiate and adapt since no one can reorganize the environment instantly.
These choices we make feel uncomfortable to admit because they run against a powerful cultural current. If you could make something easier, warmer, faster, more entertaining, why wouldn’t you? If your child’s problem could be solved easily and instantly, not solving makes you look indifferent. And a life of providing the best of everything doesn’t prepare children for the world they will actually live in. Ironically, some of the highest rates of anxiety and burnout show up not where children lack resources, but where nearly every want can be met.
And maybe what’s underneath all of my unease around these thoughts is that the affluence and social structures around us have made ordinary resilience feel out of bounds.
High standards of affluent societies mean that we do not want children to struggle, even minimally. Parents are responding to a world that relentlessly pressures them to remove every obstacle in their child’s path (to conventional success and beyond). Children’s expectations don’t materialize on their own; they are trained by systems adults built and now feel trapped inside of. Good parenting must be demonstrated, and proof is expensive and exhausting. In short, if you’re not giving your everything to your kids to the point of self-depletion, you’re not doing enough.
I don’t want my children to grow up shocked by limits or betrayed by inconvenience. I want them to recognize these things as familiar companions, something to work with and work through. To know that discomfort is not a verdict on their worth, nor a sign that something is wrong. It’s just a part of being alive among other people, in time, in weather, in bodies that need drying boots and patience and practice.
I’m deeply grateful to everyone who reads, reflects, and supports my posts. Thank you for being here.
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This is an excellent piece. I remember when my now YA daughter was in kindergarten there was a parenting idea circulating in affluent white communities that we shouldn’t say a direct “no” to children but gently redirect them. It never sat well with me because while I understood the idea that we shouldn’t run around vetoing everything our kids want to do, there are situations in life where a clear, firm “no” is appropriate and necessary. The world is full of very real boundaries that when crossed have serious consequences such as death or incarceration. The ability to say “no” is a fundamental principle behind the concept of consent and mutual respect. Another older parent summed up this issue very well, saying “If a child never hears a firm “NO” they will never learn how to say one when they need to ”. That has stayed with me for years and I’m really glad to have raised a child who can respect other people’s (and society’s) boundaries and firmly protect her own.
I love this. I think one of the reasons it’s quite hard to not step in is that as babies they are so needy. As they growing it slowly adjusts and you realise every so often that their "needs" are not actually needs anymore just desires. And these change as they go through toddler and preschool years. As a parent you have to continually reassess what are their real needs versus what they used to need but now just want. Gah I don’t think that makes any sense but in summary, it’s a moveable feast!!