A few weeks ago, my spouse and I delivered some tough news to our children. Their reaction mirrored the typical stages of grief: initial shock, followed by anger, a wave of sadness, and ultimately, acceptance. However, to clarify, their distress wasn’t related to a family emergency or a drastic move. Instead, it stemmed from our decision to halt all new purchases for a month.
Yes, you read that correctly—no new apps, no iPad games, no toys from online retailers or brick-and-mortar stores. This announcement came right after they returned home from visiting their grandmother, each with a $20 surprise from her. The car ride turned into a brainstorming session filled with requests for light sabers, stuffed animals, and various collectibles—$20 felt like an endless fortune to them.
You can imagine their dismay when I announced, “Not a single purchase until next month.” Their cries echoed, “But it’s our money!” I reassured them that they would eventually get to use their cash but not just yet. I emphasized that we had developed a habit of being a bit too greedy lately. I explained that our family had grown accustomed to acquiring new items frequently, which diminished our appreciation for what we already owned. The cycle of begging for something new, using it briefly, and then moving on was no longer going to be our way of life.
I must admit, I played a role in nurturing this level of entitlement. Living in an age where gratification is instant—apps can be downloaded in moments, and online orders arrive within days—has made it all too easy for them to get what they want. Additionally, my exhaustion often leads me to say “yes” when I should hold the line, allowing them to acquire yet another toy or snack simply to maintain peace during long errands.
However, I recognize that a little spoiling here and there doesn’t necessarily lead to a generation of entitled individuals. But, when I face the chaos of a playroom overflowing with toys that gather dust, it’s clear that a change is needed. It’s time for some serious conversations about generosity and gratitude.
Since implementing this “no new stuff” rule, I’ve noticed a shift. My kids, aged 9, 7, and 5, occasionally earn money for helping around the house, but they also contribute just by being part of the family. For instance, they pitched in with yard work and tidied their rooms, which I consider ample payment, as they have food and shelter.
Recently, the younger two decided to conduct unsanctioned “science experiments” involving slime, using up my conditioner and hand soap. As a consequence, they learned a valuable lesson: they had to use their Easter money to replace what they wasted.
I’ve also introduced a policy of “out with the old” before welcoming anything new into our home. If my daughter wants another stuffed animal, she must first part with one she already owns. The same goes for my son with his collection of Star Wars memorabilia.
The truth is, if left unchecked, they would continue to accumulate items without appreciating any of them. Thus, setting boundaries became essential. I still find myself saying “yes” more often than “no,” but I make an effort to attach conditions to my affirmations. For example, “Yes, you can have a friend over if you clean your room first,” or “Yes, you can have treats, but only after tidying up the basement.”
Yet, I also realize the importance of saying no. It’s a powerful word that can help nurture responsible and empathetic individuals. For those navigating pregnancy and the intricacies of parenthood, understanding boundaries is crucial, as highlighted in this resource from the NICHD.
In summary, teaching children the value of delayed gratification and appreciation for what they have is an ongoing journey. As we navigate this path, it’s essential to strike a balance between saying yes and no, fostering growth and responsibility in our kids.