My kids know the words and phrases they are not allowed to say in the house. One of them is “I’m bored”. My response has been consistent, “boring people are bored all the time. The world is too interesting to be bored. Read a book, play a board game, draw, write…just find something to do!”. Although, lately I’m starting to rethink this motto. I think it’s important for kids to feel bored sometimes. To stare at the ceiling allowing their imagination to take them wherever it may please. To let their mind wander. To sit in silence listening to nothing but their own thoughts. There is merit to boredom and I think my kids need to experience it more often.
I have my rules for electronics—that had initially gone by the wayside when the pandemic first hit—the main one is no electronics after 7:00 pm. Weekends lately look something like this in my house: I do chores in the morning while they get a free pass on their video games and electronics, then after they eat lunch they must find other things to do in the afternoon around the house—for example, play in the basement, play outside, read, draw, play board games—anything but be in front of any screen, including the television. After dinner they can resume playing video games, mostly so I can clean up and catch the news. They must get off their electronics by 7:00 pm. They can watch a movie or play together before bed. I actually think they are not getting enough ‘bored’ time, even if they would adamantly disagree with me.
I remember feeling bored as a child in my room staring at the popcorn ceiling—day dreaming of a boy I used to like, or staring outside my bedroom window onto the quiet dead end street I used to live on, in the middle of a hot summer afternoon, trying to catch a breeze. My father didn’t believe in air conditioning at the time so I would shimmy the tiny screen open and stick my head out the window praying for even a warm breeze to cool me down.
I remember feeling bored while lying down on a lawn chair on my balcony, just off the kitchen and family room—staring at the clouds floating by, dreaming of being on a plane, traveling somewhere far away, no destination in particular. I still love traveling and imagining where my next trip will be.
I remember feeling bored in my basement in the summer time, probably the coolest place in the house. Inventing obstacle courses, playing with dolls and pretending I was Wonder Woman by unscrewing my mother’s broom stick from it’s red bristled brush so I would have a ‘weapon’ with which to combat my invisible opponents with during a very elaborate battle, namely with the metal poles in the basement. I remember lying on the concrete floor staring at the unfinished ceiling—essentially the floor joists—imagining an upside-down world where I would have to balance my way across the floor. I recall drawing, colouring, and cutting out images of food for my pretend BBQ parties with my sisters. My mother would throw down boxes of cookies (the chewy Chips Ahoy cookies were my favourite!) that we would polish off in the blink of an eye—along with a can of coke and a plastic straw that we would steal from the cold cellar (80’s junk food was the best! My poor kids have never had free rein of the pantry—my daughter still asks me if she can open the refrigerator to get herself a snack, as if she’s a guest!).
Boredom can make room for creativity. Our bored minds need to run wild, at all ages, without constant stimulation of any sort. I think I too need more staring at the ceiling time—more sitting by the window watching the rain or the birds fly by time. Maybe being bored is not a bad thing. My son says there is no such thing as doing nothing, or thinking of nothing, because even when we are doing nothing we are doing something. Hey! I think it’s time we do something very important—absolutely nothing at all for an extended period of time—to see where our mind takes us…
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 