Recently, a friend of mine asked, “What summer camps have you enrolled your kids in?”
“Actually, none,” I replied, feeling the weight of my choice settle heavily on my shoulders, like an elephant’s foot. She looked at me with wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and panic. “Why would you do that?” she questioned, as if I were about to make a grave mistake. She knows I work from home, relying on those hours when the kids are engaged elsewhere to catch my breath and articulate thoughts with other adults who need me.
“I can’t really explain it,” I quickly responded, trying to shake off the rising sense of doubt, “but I just have this feeling that we need this.”
What I mean by “this” is allowing my kids to experience unstructured play outside while I work, without being immersed in countless scheduled activities, screens, or meticulously planned days.
This is about them getting bored enough to awaken their creativity, which has been stifled under layers of screen time. This is about spontaneity—like tossing sandwiches in a cooler for an impromptu picnic in a beautiful, secluded spot. This is about letting them unleash their imaginations, transforming our home into a chaotic art studio full of construction paper and random projects.
It’s a leap of faith, hoping that by the end of summer, I’ll know my children a little better. If I’m honest, it’s also a return to my own childhood experiences.
In the 80s, my summers were different. I attended one Girl Scout camp each summer and spent the rest of my days figuring out my own adventures. I didn’t have a nearby zoo to visit or a “Learn to Ride a Bike” camp; I simply scraped my knees until I learned how to ride. My mother didn’t stress over summer plans; she worked or pursued her hobbies, like gardening or reading. If I complained about boredom, she’d offer me chores I didn’t want to do, and I learned to avoid that phrase at all costs.
My summer days were filled with imaginative play—watching clouds, racing caterpillars, and befriending chipmunks. I created entire worlds with whatever I could find in the yard. Our shed became a troll’s lair, and the trees were my castle. My mom rarely knew what I was up to, and while today’s world poses its challenges, I want my kids to feel a hint of that freedom. I want them to hesitate before saying, “I’m bored,” just as I did. I want them to learn to enjoy their own company and create their own games.
During the school year, we’re pulled in every direction, and right now, I just want to pause—even if it’s a little stressful. I measured the kids today, noting how they’ve grown, my daughter’s toothy grin beaming as she stands taller. It made me nostalgic, reminding me of how quickly they change.
I’m not sure if this is the wisest decision, but I recognize there will be moments of frustration, and I may end up working late into the night to balance everything. But I believe in the importance of letting my kids discover the beauty in boredom.
I might sound a bit crazy, but I’m all in.
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In summary, I’m choosing a summer filled with unstructured play for my kids, hoping to foster their creativity and connection with the world around them.