Decluttering The Kids
Our family is lucky, we have an easy kid – generally well-behaved and good-hearted. We skated past the usual terrible twos and fearsome fours. But now, we find ourselves with a 5 year old going on 15. Sass. Defiance. Sneakiness.
Our great kid is testing every boundary.
Recently our darling child channeled her inner Catwoman and snuck downstairs after bedtime, unplugged the iPad, snuck upstairs, and hid under the covers watching My Little Pony for hours before being discovered. Tears ensued when we discovered the subterfuge. The following evening she Picassoed her carpet with ALL my makeup to make her room “more beautiful”. We calmly informed her that we were disappointed and that we’d discuss the consequences in the morning before putting her to bed again.
We woke, enjoyed breakfast, then got boxes.
“What are the boxes for? Are we going to make a huge fort?”
“You’ll see,” we replied as we walked up stairs.
Once in her room, it was time for the conversation. “Sometimes there are bigger consequences for our actions. You have been making a lot of bad choices this week. Today you’re losing all the toys in your room.” She began to profusely apologize for the prior evening. We explained that some things, like ruining all of mom’s make-up, have lasting consequences, and saying I’m sorry isn’t enough.
We then told her she could choose one stuffed animal and five books. Everything else went into the boxes. If she chose to have good behavior, she could earn one toy back every day for the next two weeks, but most of the toys were gone.
Crying commenced. She selected her favorite stuffed animal and the five books. Then she helped us pack up four full boxes. Tearful long goodbyes ensued with some beloved toys.
We expected miserable moping or Shakespearian angst to ensue over her lost toys. We thought the punishment would instill the lesson that bad decisions have big consequences.
No moping or angst befell our house; instead, our kiddo was HAPPY.
Wait, what?
We realized we’d succeeded in the best way possible. Not only did our daughter learn that the decisions we make have consequences, but the bonus lesson: less is more.
No one sets out to spoil their kids. But birthdays and holidays add up and soon stuffed animals are taking over, blocks are underfoot, and toys are everywhere. And no one wants to get rid of another’s generosity. But all this tangible love takes up real estate, and eventually we need to reclaim this clutter for everyone’s sanity. Donating a bag of gently used toys during the holidays just doesn’t cut it.
Our daughter loves having a nearly empty room. She plays better with fewer toys. She dances more. She imagines more.
All the stuffed animals she’d accumulated over five birthdays, all the tiny ponies and character dolls and toys galore had stressed her out. She earned back her favorite toys and didn’t bat an eye when we donated the rest. Donating some of her toys was harder for me than it was her; I loved the stuffed unicorn that her Aunt gave her, and the There’s a Wocket in My Pocket that we used to read every night (“Mom, that’s a baby book. I want to keep my fairy chapter books; those are for big girls”). I simply had to smile, cherish the memory, and send them on their way.
Ultimately, decluttering her room was cathartic for all of us.
Her behavior significantly improved with less stuff. Our family lives also improved; I don’t think parents realize how stressed any of us become by gradual accumulation. And while we’re not hoping our daughter makes any massively bad decisions in the future, as parents, we’ve been eying the playroom and thinking how amazing it would be with half of its contents! Maybe we’ll start next weekend and pare it down as a family, or maybe she’ll wake up and there will just be less stuff. Either way, it’s a win-win for everyone.
Decluttering our kids may be the best gift we can give them in an often materialistic society. As for me, I still buy the occasional toy as a present, but I’m going to gift more experiences: mini-golfing, bounce house open plays, go-karts rounds, local baseball tickets, art classes, that’s just the way to go.
Memories not mayhem—that’s my new motto!
After surviving ten years as a high school English teacher, Kathryn opted to create imaginary worlds and spend her days hunting for ladybugs with her daughter. She has written for ChildGood and Babies and Breastfeeding magazines as well as various sites around the web.
