Cardboard Parenting

Dearest Daughters,

I aspire to be a cardboard parent. That's a term I just made up.

By my definition a cardboard parent, literally, is one that gives their child a cardboard box and allows him or her to have his or her way with it.

But, what a cardboard parent really is at his or her essence is a parent who encourages their child, embraces his or her gifts and visions. Allows space for self-expression. For making messes and mistakes and figuring things out. A parent who is there to love and support no matter what, who will bring in the duct tape when asked and glow with pride every step along the way.

I believe all children are born creative. And gifted and naturally imaginative. But, not all children have adults that support and love them unconditionally. There are certainly many factors that determine the kind of adult a child will become, but having fiercely loyal adults in his or her life is probably the most determining.

Behind every awesome person you meet, there has got to be an adult reponsible for that. A cardboard parent maybe?

Last night your Daddy and I watched Being Elmo: A Pupeteer's Journey. Your dad loves loves loves him some Elmo. I liked Elmo as a child, but he started to annoy me as a parent, watching "Elmo's World" morning after morning. I have this self-righteous stance about Elmo "selling out," about the episodic, vee-jayed re-formatting of Sesame Street, about the (I kid you not) dozen or so various forms of Elmo living under our roof, mostly your Dad's collection.

The documentary gave me a new appreciation for Elmo. Not only for this amazingly talented black man's journey from the outskirts of Baltimore to becoming a master, world-renoun puppeteer, a unique story in it's own right, but also because I realized what Elmo represents to people; why kids and (grown adults) love Elmo.

Elmo is "pure love."

Kevin Clash, the pupeeteer, based Elmo on both of his parents, who loved him and supported his interest and many talents (sewing! acting! improv! making an object come to life with nuanced flicks of his wrist!) Kids at school made fun of him. His siblings too. Given that he was Jim Henson's first black puppeteer, I'd say that making puppets and creating characters and putting on shows was and still may not be an ordinary thing for a young black boy to do. But, his parents never batted an eyelash. Not even when Kevin acted on his childhood urge to cut out the fur lining of his father's coat.

That, is carboard parenting.

Then, just this morning, I stumbled across this story. Another example of yes, an amazing individual, but also a parent who supported and provided space for his child to pursue his interests and use his gifts to create a fully functioning arcade out of cardboard boxes. Are you starting to get it?  Cardboard parenting!

Caine's Arcade from Nirvan Mullick on Vimeo.

I doubt these types of parents think much about what they offer their children, when they give them a cardboard box or the lining to their coat. They believe that it's just what parents do. They, as I would, give all credit to their amazing children. And I'm not here to take any of that credit away.

But, I'm given pause to think about how I might have reacted if I found you had destroyed my coat. Or how I might have reacted to find a greatly reduced supply of packaging tape after all that arcade building! About the ways I helicoptor parent, because I want so badly for you girls to suceed. So I meddle sometimes. Or redirect your thoughts and actions into neat little, managable, adult-comprehendable packages.

Or about the times I quickly, but unecessarily tell you "no"; my knee-jerk reactions, my negativity and critical nature.

As a parent, you have to set boundaries and provide limits. It's not always possible to say "yes."

But, too often, in intentional and unintentional ways, we confine our children, we say "no." And for not very good reasons. Like our schdules or our notions of scarcity. Our insecurities. Our fear. Or because we put ourselves, our ideas, our need to control first.

We tend to build boxes, neatly packing our children into them, instead of doing the obvious: handing them the tape and carboard, the fur and feathers, baseballs and bass clefs, dirt and dancing, numbers and letters and love.

Girls, you were created awesome.

Now, go. Git. Build your dreams.

Just don't stab yourself. Or each other. Please.

(Click video above to see my attempts at cardboard parenting over the past few years.)

Love,

Comments

[amy]

I heard a term once--"judicious neglect". That encompasses both the purposefulness of leaving them to their own devices, and how you must try to resist putting your finger back in.
Not that I've ever been all that good at it. I think it really does help to have more than one kid. Two kids take about five times more energy than one. By the time you get to five kids, like GGG, the whole thing just becomes a rolling dustcloud of kid energy you just have to step back from and not let it knock over any houseplants.