OPINION |
Every parent knows the feeling. The tension that takes over your body, the sweat that emerges at your temples and leaves your hands damp.
The public tantrum is about to begin.
You saw all the signs. As soon as you placed your squirming toddler in the Target cart, he made his wants clear, “Get out. Get out, peaz.”
You tried engagement.
“Help mama by holding these avocados. Can you put the avocados in the cart?”
You tried distraction.
“Wow, look at all of the red, shiny hearts! It’s almost Valentine's Day!”
Defeated, you try reasoning and stern rules.
But you have already lost. The tantrum was bubbling before you arrived, and it is here to stay.
“OUT. GET OUT. OUUUUUUTTT.”
This can’t just be my experience of parenthood. Surely this is universal.
Toddlers struggle to sit still. Children, in general, need a lot more physical activity than adults do. That has to do with things like brain chemistry, developing muscles and sensory overload coping mechanisms.
In other words, it’s natural. Kids need to move. Toddlers need to explore.
Why, then, are there so few spaces where young children can be integrated into everyday life? Why am I constantly forced to contain him, still his energy and strap him into strollers, carts and chairs?
I think it's because our towns, businesses and everyday spaces are lacking.
The spaces we’re sent
There are places designed for children, and there are places designed for adults. There are few designed for both.
I have a theory about why that is, and it has a lot to do with who’s running our businesses (and who is not). But it's also about what we value — both in business and in society. Children are cherished and considered. Are parents?
A place for children IS a place for mothers, they say. What more could you want than a playground and a bench?
Families need more than parks and libraries, believe it or not. Family-friendly should not be synonymous with recreation-oriented. What about the rest of our lives?
Children need to be children in more than just play spaces, and parents would love to shop, dine and play with said kids in tow.
The plight of the toddler parent
I can’t tell you how many parents have confided in me that they became shut-ins during their child’s younger years. They felt unwelcome in grocery stores (“I just started ordering online and doing curbside pickup!”). They felt unwelcome at church. (“I had to wait in the hallway during the whole first year.”) They felt unwelcome at every restaurant in town. (You only have to watch this viral TikTok to know the parental trauma induced by eating out with a 2-year-old).
Parents of young toddlers are the outcasts of eating establishments. We are subjected to two kinds of people — pitying parents of older children who kindly whisper, “I remember those days. It gets easier, I promise.” And people who have no children, yet righteously discuss with their dinner partner what they’d allow and NOT allow from naughty, noisy kids at restaurants.
This is normally where the mob chimes in with something about discipline and “kids these days.” (They must have forgotten that discipline means almost nothing to a 2-year-old.)
I often get frustrated that modern establishments leave little room for the toddler years. All of our third places — coffee shops, gyms, coworking spaces, retail centers and grocery stores — seem to have been constructed by people who blocked out the needs of families with young children.
It will be no surprise to anyone that parents report the toddler years are some of the most exhausting, and that early parenthood is isolating. Perhaps that’s partly because society thinks of us in silos. A.) The children and B.) The adults. They serve us in separate establishments, forgetting that we are mostly living life together.
What could be done differently?
It is rare to find places where parents and their kids both get what they need in one place. Sure, there are several places devoted to the needs of children. There are indoor playgrounds like Itty Bitty City, Imaginasium and The Jungle Gym. There are educational spaces like the Dickerson Park Zoo, The Discovery Center and Wonders of Wildlife. But ask most parents, and they will tell you that is not family time. That is kids time. There is a difference.
The rest of the world is designed for adults. Only the adults.
Why can’t more restaurants be like Mother’s Brewing, and have playground equipment in viewing distance of picnic tables for gathering with friends? Why can’t more grocery stores have those mini carts (like Mama Jeans) to occupy toddlers who want desperately to move their little bodies? Wouldn’t it be lovely if large shopping spaces had temporary child care — like G3 Kids at a mall in La Jolla, California, where parents can drop toddlers off for a night of trampolines and fun while they get their shopping done?
What if coffee shops had soft rugs with block puzzles on the floor or patios with Fisher-Price slides?
What if the city’s 20-year growth plan, Forward SGF, included a piazza concept, in which restaurants and retail were designed around a central, protected greenspace where children could play under the watchful eye of their parents enjoying a coffee from the sidelines?
Ah, such privilege — to be seen and served by businesses, cities and planners.
I’m not asking to just think of the children. I’m rallying for the community to think of the families, the entire unit and all of its needs.
Parents are people, too. And, guys, I just want to grab a coffee or get my grocery shopping done without a racing heart and sweaty hands.
