GRIT: How roughhousing your kids makes better adults

I WAS DRIVING WITH MY DAUGHTER one day through the city.  She was in the backseat and talking my ear off.  Suddenly, she stopped talking; the silence caused me to check my rear-view mirror.  I saw a pair of hands cupped together and rapidly waving in a down-UP motion; it was like these little hands were bailing water from a rowboat.  Then it hit me hard:  My daughter farted in the backseat and was throwing her stench at me.  I'll admit—I gagged; her farts could gag a maggot.  Meanwhile, she laughed like a lunatic as I tried to maintain my driving composure.  "Deep breaths, daddy!" she said in a halfway-serious tone.  Such is the relationship with my youngest child.

Improvising fatherhood

     I never knew my father, but I had a stepfather who came into my life when I was ten.  We didn't do much together (he worked second or third shift and usually slept during the day), but he is a good man nonetheless.  When my wife and I were expecting our first child, I asked myself one night what kind of father I wanted to be.  I didn't have many good examples, so I had to improvise.  I decided I wanted to be a father every kid would want:  a dad who could play games, tell corny jokes, make silly voices, transform even the most complex robot, draw pictures of Batman on-demand, and teach values to his child.  I wanted to live an honorable example that so my sons would have a template to grow into, and my daughter would know what to look for in a man.  Honor seems to be in such short supply these days, so I felt it was important to use this value as a cornerstone of my parenting.  Before our oldest could even crawl, I was (gently) tossing him in the air and "dropping" him on the floor (which was really a slow, steady lowering to the floor before raising him up again).  He's fine—he's a college sophomore.
     From the earliest days of fatherhood, I was playing games with my kids.  Throwing pillows at their legs (knocking their legs from under them) was a daily routine—I called it "kid bowling".  I would lie on the floor and watch cartoons with them as well as play hide-and-seek.  Playing hide-and-seek revealed my kids were developing a sense of humor faster than I had anticipated.

Kids will embarrass you in humorous ways

     In the early days of fatherhood and marriage, we moved to Germany as part of my military service.  Because we moved overseas, and had just arrived, we hadn't received our furniture.  As a result, the military provided, as per custom, simple furniture such as couches, dressers, and beds.  It was during the Christmas season, and my wife was busy cooking-up a storm in the kitchen.  Unfortunately, our toddler son was constantly underfoot in the kitchen.  To alleviate my wife's frustration, and to compensate for a lack of toys, I decided to play hide-and-seek with the boy.  We had invited over our new friends to dinner, and in order for dinner to be ready before their arrival, I had to kick my efforts up to maximum.

No dad is safe from a good-humored kid.

     Our home was a German-styled apartment; it was spacious enough for a family of three, but it lacked good hiding places, so I improvised.  I would run into a bedroom, turn off the lights, and hide in a wardrobe to await the arrival of my son.  Eventually, he would fling the door open and run away howling in laughter as the "monster bear" chased him through the house.  Our son had learned his manners, and would shake hands with everyone when they came to our door.  It was cute, but this time it was different.  As the appointed time came for our friends to arrive, the doorbell rang.  My son (who was covered in sweat and laughing hysterically after running away from me in the dark living room) ran to the door, flung it open, thrust out his shaking hand to the Tillmans, and breathlessly declared, "my dad just came out of the closet."  The humor was not lost on our guests.
     Through tearful laughter, I realized I was onto something.  I was teaching our son good humor through rough play.  This was a standard I have since carried for nearly twenty years.

It's like Tom and Jerry in my house

Tom and Jerry in typical form

used under Fair Use (Warner Bros)

     After roughhousing with two sons, we discovered our third child would be a girl.  As I contemplated new frontiers in fatherhood, I wondered how my tactics would change.  Would I become overwhelmed at having a little princess in the house?  Would my wrestling days be over?  Would roughhousing be replaced with tea parties at little, white tables?  Would I have to wear a floppy ladies' hat as I sipped invisible tea?  What would happen to life as I knew it?
     In reality, not much changed.  If I am playing a game with my daughter, the play quickly descends into butt-kicking.  I swear my house is like a Chuck Jones cartoon sometimes.  I could be walking down the hallway—minding my own business—when a giggling, little girl comes from nowhere to kick my butt before running past me and into the kitchen.  She's not like her brothers.  This demon is worse.  She has no pity for an old man (I was in my early twenties with our first, my thirties with our second, and now she's beating up on a 40+ man).  It's a daily routine:  fake biting her arm (while accidentally biting my fingers, which makes her laugh every time when I howl in "pain), calling her a sissy (which she returns with well, you're a sissy GIRL!), or chasing her through the house while doing my best Arnold Schwarzenegger or Mister T voice.  She laughs or screams in delight at dad's antics.  On my worst days, my kids have always uplifted me through this manner of rough play just as much as I thrill them with an adventure.
     Some of you reading this may take issue with the name-calling and my daughter's reply.  I can assure you this is done in the most joking of manners, and I believe it serves a higher purpose.  My daughter has a good sense of humor, and I believe my soft teasing will help her maintain her sense of humor as she grows.  Children can be very cruel to each other, and I believe I'm teaching resilience in my kid so she won't let cruel words wound her.  Of my three children, she seems the most easy-going, and isn't rattled by mere words.  Girls already endure endless ridicule from peers, and if I can help her steel her nerves for the future, then I'm ahead of the curve that is coming as she enters her teenage years of angst.

Roughhousing as an art form    

A fantastic read about

why this kind of play is essential

to your child's development

     According to researchers, roughhousing with your kids is a necessary element to their emotional, physical, and mental health.  It teaches resilience to stress and pain as well as encourages a sense of humor in times of strife.  Roughhousing in random increments provides kids a place to blow-off steam, lower stress levels, and strengthen bonds with a parent.  In their book The Art of Roughhousing: Good Old-Fashioned Horseplay and Why Every Kid Needs It,  Doctors DeBenedet and Cohen outline strategies for playing rough, the psychology behind it, and tips for safety (stay away from wrists and joints and avoid headlocks and kidney punches!).  If you are considering doing what I'm doing, pick up this book!  It's full of advice and answers many of your questions as to why roughhousing would be beneficial to your child.  If done right (and there are many ways to do it), your child will be better rested, more inclined to talk, and less likely to be aggressive or hostile toward you or other people as they grow.

You fight like a girl!

     In my opinion, roughhousing with all of my children has better prepared them for the future, and it is far from actual fighting.  Every moment spent in this mode of play is simply play.  I'm not teaching my children to harass and bully anyone—quite the opposite.  It isn't just about having fun and play-fighting.  I want my kids to be able to shake-off rejection, deal with emotional and physical pain, and develop the humor it takes to better laugh at the frivolities of life.  Too many kids grow up to be delicate, fragile things who have difficulty dealing with viewpoints that oppose theirs; look at many American college campuses in recent history more on that subject.  The more I look at the world around me, I realize I'm doing the right thing for my kids.  Some might say you shouldn't roughhouse with your daughter!  She's a delicate little girl!  That is the mentality I'm fighting against.

What are your thoughts?  Leave me a comment below and tell me how you roughhouse with your kids.  Check out the books below for more parenting fun!

By The Atomic Father