A friend of mine from college was in town recently so we got together to catch up. Seeing him again was great because it brought back some great memories and encouraged me about today’s young people.

For the record, I feel I’m 90 years old when I write “today’s young people.” However, in this context it’s true. My friend’s son is in his senior year of high school. My kids are 3 and 5. I don’t feel like an “old” dad but, suddenly, having a good friend talking about his near-adult child made me feel weird.

Having a kid forces you to grow up immediately and become more mature. What would I have done had I become a father in my 20s rather than my mid-30s? I know lots of guys who became dads in their early 20s. It all worked out fine for them. But for me, it seems alien and out of place. Being a dad and, more importantly, being mature enough to parent responsibly is something I couldn’t even fathom until I was in my mid-30s.

My friend and I met for lunch at a fast-food restaurant with one of those attached playground rooms. He marveled that my sons were always by my side. They always wanted to be near me. They’d pop out of the playground room to ask questions, play peek-a-boo and generally be cute.

“One day, they just stop wanting to be with you all the time,” he said. “They get their license, get a group of friends and you’ll see them for dinner. Maybe.”

I peppered him with questions about raising older children. As his son is applying for college, I asked about that process. He was frank about the costs, how much he could cover and how much debt he’d have at the end of four years. It was shocking to realize that the total cost for four years of college for the two of us cost only slightly less than one year of college for his son.

But he also put some of my concerns at ease. Some things had changed for the better since we went to college. For starters, a rising freshman now has an idea of what to expect employment-wise from their proposed major. They know their job possibilities, where those employment opportunities are located and how much they’ll realistically earn after graduation. We never had an idea of how much money it takes to exist, make it, succeed or prosper in the real world. Believe me, had those information fields been filled in for me when I was in college, I would’ve gone after a more stable and profitable profession.

My friend went on to tell me about some of our school friends who now owned small businesses, were chefs, city planners and one who is a high-ranking explosives expert for a large state bureau of investigations. We marveled at how we all ended up in such a diverse arena of employment.

My friend had to start his drive home. He left me feeling that the kids who are going to college today aren’t going in as blind as their parents did back in the day. It was also a great reminder that no matter how annoying, tiring, messy, repetitive and frustrating small children can be; a day will come when I’m not as cool to them as I am now.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

A version of this first appeared on Daddy Mojo and ran here in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo: PublicDomainPictures.net

The best fatherly advice I received before we had our son was so simple and straightforward that it’s the only tip that stood out among the clichés most people offered me.

The advice?

“Just be there.” 

As simple as it sounds, the decision to consciously be present with your children goes deep. Just think back to your favorite memories of your parents. Do you remember the toy you opened on your seventh Christmas? Or the present you got for your 14th birthday? I highly doubt it.

But I’d bet you remember playing basketball with your dad. Or putting a puzzle together with your mom. What about playing video games with an uncle? Or cooking with your grandmother. Do you remember the connection you felt when you played a board game with your entire family? Even though my dad sucked at basketball and my mom always cheated at board games those are my favorite childhood memories and why I have a strong bond with my family.

This is why I didn’t mind quitting my job and becoming a stay-at-home dad. And if you’re an at-home dad I’m assuming you probably feel the same way. You want to be a part of your children’s life. You want to have that connection. It’s easy to be present like this when your kids are babies because you’re holding them or playing with them most of the day.

But as they grow older, they become more independent and it becomes too easy to start letting distractions come between you and your children. Distractions like email, chores, Netflix, Facebook, YouTube, exhaustion, smartphones, errands, Threads, Instagram, video games … did I say Netflix?

These are my main offenders at least. They plot against my relationship with my son and slowly try to drive a wedge between us. But I found that if I stand up to them and keep my relationship with my kids in mind, they’re weak enemies.

What’s my solution to be present more often? As often as we can, my wife and I take an hour and turn off all of the electronics in the home, especially smartphones. We use this time to play with blocks or toy soldiers, draw, paint, paste, build, role play, go for a walk, bike ride, go to the park, or do anything that involves us connecting. This one-on-one time is so important to your child’s development and it’s something you don’t want to leave out of your relationship with your kids.

Why is it important? Because one day they’ll be … teenagers! 

OK, everybody calm down, you can stop crying now.

I know you don’t want to think about it now, especially you guys out there with a little princess to protect. However, laying the groundwork by being present now is important. It helps build a solid foundation for your relationship with your children. You’ll want that when the tween and teen years arrive because you will want them to trust you enough so they can talk to you. That talk may be about drugs, alcohol or sex. It may be about bullying or sadness they are experiencing. It may just be about how their day went.

Now that you’re done reading this distraction, turn off your electronics and go find your kids. It’s time you did something together.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

This post first appeared on the Chicago Dads Group blog in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo by Ketut Subiyanto via Pexels.

I spent three wonderful weeks on a family trip to Ireland this past August. When, like me, you have two young children with you, a trip like that isn’t exactly a vacation. It’s an adventure.

Travel puts a lot of stress on kids and families. So while there are sights to see, wonders to explore and memories to be made, there are also many hurdles to overcome. One important thing I learned on this trip is that no matter who or what you encounter while traveling, kindness matters.

I’m going to start with the end of the story. We returned home after an eight-hour flight from Dublin to Philadelphia. The time difference was a killer, and there was no food on the plane my kids were willing to eat. My daughter, age 5, sat next to me on that incredibly long, exhausting flight. She’d made it through the plane ride without too much fuss. However, by the time we gathered our baggage in Philly, the stress of the journey and the exhaustion of a three-week trip all came crashing together.

She screamed. She threw a massive tantrum in the terminal. Hungry and exhausted, the one thing my daughter wanted and needed was to hold my hand. I happily offered it despite trying to juggle suitcases. I understood how upset she was and I wasn’t mad at all.

Then a stranger approached us.

This woman marched straight to my daughter and me and announced in a booming voice, “You’re parenting all wrong. You need to beat some sense into that girl.”

WTF.

I didn’t curse. Instead, I told the woman she was wrong and to leave us alone. I was appalled. And angry. This stark, crazy scene felt like a “Welcome back to ‘Murica” moment for us. Because one thing we’d seen in Ireland was a completely different attitude toward children. One I was not accustomed to.

Kindness.

Changes of countries, changes of attitudes

Everywhere we went in Ireland, people bent over backward to be kind and help. It didn’t matter if we were at a playground, in a department store or on a street. People saw that we had kids and treated us with great empathy and compassion.

Two weeks before our encounter with rudeness upon returning home, we had an opposite experience. My 8-year-old son melted down on the streets of Killarney. He’d been refused a lollipop and decided that required staging a tantrum. He lay on the side of the parking lot near some pubs and refused to move. He screamed a bit too. And while my wife and I did our best to handle the situation, strangers came by.

“Is there anything I can do?” said one.

“Oh, I’ve been there,” said another. “So sorry for this, but it’ll get better soon.”

Kindness. Just an attitude of kindness everywhere.

Perhaps it is a cultural thing. Irish laws are different. We quickly noticed every indoor area designed for kids (such as soft play centers) came equipped with a double-locking alarm mechanism to prevent kids from running out or strangers from going in. We noticed every place we went, even the tiniest middle-of-nowhere towns, had handicapped-accessible unisex bathrooms with changing tables — something we once struggled to find in America. Perhaps this mindset toward a “care culture” transcended laws and permeated into the general public?

Kindness comes in many forms

As we explored Ireland, we kept encountering that same kindness again and again.

One restaurant had nothing the kids wanted to eat. The chef marched out, offered to make something just for them, and soon did.

Our kids appeared bored while we checked into one hotel. A worker spotted them and then hurried over with coloring books.

When we tried taking a tour that was sold out, a stranger offered us his tickets on the spot, noting that I had younger kids than he did.

These were not isolated incidents. They were a pattern of kindness and compassion and understanding that children have different needs, everywhere we went in the country.

Back to that moment in Philly. Perhaps that woman was an isolated example. Or perhaps not. I vented about her rudeness later to a friend in New York. My friend said that three times in the past month someone told her to beat her son. This advice came from strangers who didn’t know her or her kid. The expectation to some is that kid needs and adult needs are the same, therefore kid behaviors and adult behaviors are the same.

I’m no longer mad at the rude woman. I feel sorry for her. And I feel sorry for everyone else who thinks it’s appropriate to say such things to parents. In the future, I wish all people, parents and non-parents alike, would treat others with a bit more kindness.

The world could use some more of it right about now.

Photo by Yan Krukau via Pexels.com

While stuck in typical Los Angeles traffic the other day, I wondered if my kids would ever learn to drive.

Then I thought, “Maybe I should ask, ‘Will my kids ever need to drive?'”

I know several people who never learned to drive and will never need to. In certain cities, such as New York with its extensive mass transportation system, it’s not a big deal. In other cities, such as my Los Angeles, it is absolutely necessary (as the song goes, nobody walks in L.A.). But technology has been advancing at such a rapid pace that in 10 years instead of getting a driver’s license or having a casual conversation with the Uber or Lyft driver, my boys will probably call an automated car through an AI device installed in everyone’s house. If they ever own a car, it will probably be self-driving.

This past summer, a group of us dads spent some time at a friend’s cabin. We all had different technology with us — smartphones, laptops, gaming consoles and more — and it became a game exchanging and playing with new equipment. Then our host said something I find myself thinking about a lot.

“Do you remember who was at your sixth birthday party?” he asked,

I replied, “No way, that was like 40 years ago!”

“Any pictures from any of your birthdays?” he asked.

“A few I suppose.”

He put his virtual reality (VR) goggles on me and said, “This is how our kids are going to remember their birthdays.”

There it was – his 6-year-old daughter’s birthday party in full immersive virtual reality.

What will technology be like in another 40 years, I constantly wonder. What about in another 20 years … even another five?

My kids will have plenty of pictures and videos from their childhood, thanks to our ever-present smartphones. I wonder what their own kids will say about being able to experience, not just hear about, those days and years before they were born. The sheer difference is mind-boggling.

But at what point does technology surpass science fiction and imagination, consuming all our time and focus? Or has that happened already?

Since one of the things I dislike most is driving, I am fascinated by all these new options for getting around. Technology is where dreams can arise from. But it’s also where nightmares can come from. I am both excited and scared for my kids’ future.

Regardless of what comes, I still believe driving a stick shift is a good life skill so I’ll be imparting my old-school ways on them.

I can just hear me now, “In my day …”.

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This blog post, which first ran on our L.A. Dads Group blog in 2017 and has since been updated, is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

This graduation season, I moved the tassel to the other side of my mortarboard for I have passed Parenting a Tween and commenced Parenting A Teenager. Where’s my stinkin’ cake? What, no moonbounce in the backyard? What a rip-off.

Graduating a kid from tween to teen usually doesn’t register on either end of the celebration spectrum. That’s a shame. Having a child turn 13 is a special time for the child and also the mother and father. It also marks a turning point in the ever-evolving parent/child relationship. In fact, it just might be the most important time in both of your lives.

Of course, the baby years are important. However, I’m reminded of a baseball saying: “You can’t win the World Series in the first month of the season but you can lose it.” I think this applies to parenting too.

So much of the parenting world, from “expert” books to those tired parenting memes to the overall cultural conversation about kids, revolves around the early years and the sleepless nights. In retrospect, all that stuff — the baby, toddler and early elementary years — is the easiest part of a parent’s job responsibility. We can get that shit done with only determination and a stronger gag reflex. For our efforts, we’re rewarded with baby smiles, adorably mispronounced words, a fountain of kisses and air-tight squeezy hugs.

So, don’t drop your baby on its head. Don’t blow secondhand smoke in its tiny face. Definitely don’t be an asshole as your child grows from baby to toddler to tween –someone sorta resembling a real-life actual person. But try as you may, you aren’t going to “win it all” at parenting in those early years.

With that in mind, here’s what I’ve learned about parenting by parenting a tween:

Watch those ‘foreverwords’

I was speaking with a friend when she mentioned the term “foreverwords.” Say your tween child has done something. Maybe that something is grand or maybe it is life-altering in what could be a possibly terrible way. Regardless of how good or poor their decision-making proves to be, how you respond initially — the actions and words you use in that very moment as you and she/he teeter on a high wire — will form the foundation for a possible shift in your parent/child relationship.

The idea of pausing before speaking or acting out those foreverwords hit me hard. The wrong choice could be ugly.

The tween years of parenting require more nuanced thought, on-the-fly nimbleness, and patiently considered words and actions. Our rewards during this often confusing and conflicting time won’t always be as adorable or evident or immediate or obvious as they were in those baby and toddler years. However, they will be powerful for the life of your child.

So tread lightly, moms and pops. The cement is wet still and awfully impressionable. You do not want to misstep and cause cracks in your kid’s permanent foundation. Not now, not after you took such care to keep them alive and reasonably happy for the past decade or so.

Be more involved with them than ever before

You don’t get to parent less or clock out in any way from the job when your kid reaches the tween years. The exact opposite is true. You need to put in more hours, give your parenting decisions more thought, and double down on your commitment to the job of being a dad or mom.

Parenting a tween (and I’m sure a teen as well) requires more from you. I’m afraid many parents don’t get this memo. Many parents think their job is nearly over in the tween years and they check out through the teen years.

That’s a terrible, terrible move.

Yes, your older child is pretty darn self-reliant now. They have a phone, they can let themselves into the house by themselves and stay at home while you run errands locally. It’s kinda great for you and them.

You can have conversations about some grown-up stuff with your tween and it’s actually enjoyable and thought-provoking at times.

While all that is true, your 11-, 12-, 13-, 15-, 17-year-old child needs you to be a more actively involved parent now. More than ever before.

They need us more, even if they insist they don’t. So we need to parent more.

More thoughtfully, more passionately, more earnestly, more actively.

More.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

A version of this first appeared on Out with the Kids. It first ran here in 2017 and has since been updated. Photo: ©LIGHTFIELD STUDIOS / Adobe Stock.

Tax Day has now come and gone. Once again, NONE of my working teens filed their taxes because I told them not to bother. With the standard deduction for single dependents nearing $1,300, I told my kids to save the time and sit this filing year out.  

Since each has started working, I have given this same advice. And, honestly, I’ve never been 100% sure that I/they are doing the right thing.

From my point of view, if my kids ultimately have $0 of tax viability (we live in Florida, so no state income tax, either) then filing to get the $20 lost does not make much sense. 

Whenever I encourage my kids to take the easy way out, I feel like I’ve short-changed a learning opportunity. 

But have I?   

Learn from the “act” of filing taxes

My father’s rule was simple: once you made $1, you filed taxes. I remember loving the time my dad spent sitting me down with the manual 1040EZ form we’d picked up from the Cedar Rapids, Iowa Public Library. I’d dutifully dice up my $500 annual earnings W2-box-by-W2-box. And, in the end, I’d get back the money I’d paid in on. It felt like a surprise bonus.    

That nostalgia had me itching to teach the same lessons to my working teens. That is until they told me filing taxes can be as simple as a few simple clicks on their phone. 

Nostalgic feeling – gone.    

Yeah, the efficiency of the internet has yielded the “act” of insisting your kids file taxes, well, meaningless and devoid of the father/kid interaction I am after.

More importantly, though, than my desire to spend more time with my teens, I began to wonder about their legal obligations for filing with the government by Tax Day.     

Do teens have to file taxes?

I was relieved to learn it is fine NOT to file a tax return if a teen’s earnings do not exceed the standard, single deduction for a dependent. In tax year 2023 (returns that are due in April 2024), that amount is around $1,300.

So, no, a teen not filing taxes is, as they’d say, “not that deep.” 

While your teen may not be required to file taxes, they can without any downside. The only possible outcome of filing at lower incomes (like those of my teens) is the opportunity to, potentially, get a refund. This would occur if they paid federal taxes in excess of their liability.  These amounts are typically small and should be weighed against the time (and possible software fees) it might take to file.

I do like the idea of enforcing the discipline of filing taxes for teens. I regret I did not have them each go through the process. It would have opened them up to conversations that may be important down the road, such as concepts like “dependents,” “standard deductions,” and “tax credits.” Through these types of chats, it may become clear how meaningful it may be to a family’s taxes to claim teens as dependents until they age out. (As of 2024, a teen can be claimed as a dependent until age 19 or 24 if a full-time student).

Filing taxes is also an opportunity to explain the importance of filing status on tax liability – and not only for them! I’ll leave those lessons until next year, I guess. 

What if my teen has only been paid in cash?

My 14-year-old daughter was only paid in cash for babysitting in 2023. It was only a small amount of money made babysitting for a select few friends. She assumed, then, that taxes did not pertain to her. To me, it was also a no-brainer to avoid filing a tax return.

Upon further review, I may have messed up.  

The IRS guidance mentions $400 cash income as the line where a teen can be characterized as “self-employed” and, therefore, subject to paying taxes. Take note: the “self-employed” designation does allow for write-offs that would reduce or eliminate their tax liability. 

So, while she could have filed, given the amounts, I’m OK with her skipping out with her brothers. 

I feel better now. We haven’t skirted the taxing authorities. My kids would say they’ve saved time and that’s a win. I would contend we delayed a lesson they will need and should understand. 

We’ll all have to pick up that lesson next Tax Day.

Teens and taxes photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich via Pexels.

Resolutions. I love them. Love to make them, write them down, and commit to them loudly with bravado at New Year’s Eve parties (“I’m SO gonna do Tough Mudder this year! AND go gluten-free. WHO’S WITH ME?!!”) even while knowing all that big talk will likely evaporate by February. I just like this time of year when we all attempt to take a few steps toward becoming better humans, at least for a little while.

For me, resolutions fall into two categories:

• Outward Accomplishments — get more writing done, make more money, be the first bald man ever to grow a new head of hair by determination and straining alone
• Inward Improvements — be nicer, be less judgmental, be a tiny bit less hypocritical by not yelling at other drivers just before cutting someone else off myself

To have some nice father-daughter bonding time recently, I sat down with my 14-year-old daughter to talk about making our New Year’s resolutions, particularly in the category of Inward Improvements.

Spoiler Alert: she doesn’t have any.

That is, she doesn’t have any resolutions for herself. Turns out, however, she had several resolutions for me.

Like, a list.

That she’d already written down.

For me.

Ways that I, her father, can improve.

It was a super-productive discussion.

These are the resolutions my daughter told me I should embrace, straight from the 14-year-old’s mouth:

1. No more knocking on my door and asking if I want to, like, hang out all the time. If I want to hang out, I’ll come find you.

Me: But you never want to hang out.

Her: That’s not true. We hung out for an hour yesterday.

Me: That was Christmas. You hung out with me because I was giving you presents.

Her: Well, let’s do more of that kind of hanging out then.

2. You know that thing where you try to use cool slang in front of my friends? Stop doing that. No one actually says “OMG” out loud. It’s not a thing.

Me: Are you sure? Because kids on TV say it all the time.

Her: No! Bad dad.

3. Stop repeating yourself all the time. For example, you don’t need to tell me to wash the dishes FIVE TIMES after every night.

Me:  But you never respond after the first four times. If you did, I would stop —

Her: You don’t give me a chance! Sometimes it just takes me a while to, you know, process what you’re saying.

4. Stop talking about Star Wars, like, all the time.

Me: No.

5. Ease up on my grades. Sometimes a B+ is just fine.

Me: But what if it’s in a class where I know you can get an A?

Her: If I could get an A in a class, I’d already have one. A B+ is still above average, you know.

Me: I’d like to think we can set our goals higher than –

Her: BAD DAD!

6. Stop trying to make me do boring grown-up things all the time.

Me: You mean like laundry?

Her: Very funny.

7. Stop worrying so much about whether I have enough feminine hygiene products in the bathroom.

Me: I just don’t want you to run out of … girl stuff

Her: Dad, you buy “girl stuff” every time you go to the store. I’ll literally never run out for the next 20 years.

Me: Parental responsibility. Listen, someday when you’re an adult you’re going to run out of … stuff, and you’ll look back on what a responsible father I was. And how awkward it was to buy the … stuff.

8. Stop worrying about my screen time. I’m not looking at anything gross online. I’m basically just talking with my friends or drawing on my iPad.

Me: OK. Just promise me you won’t give out any personal information to some stranger claiming to be a 14-year-old named Katy. It might be a 65-year-old guy named Cleetus living in a trailer somewhere.

Her: Dad, I’m not stupid.

Me: Not the point.

9. Stop worrying so much about me in general. I’m totally fine.

Me: Sorry, kid. I’ll never be able to keep that one. Oh, and you should probably know that I’ve made my own set of resolutions that are the exact opposite of everything you just said.

This was originally published in 2016 and later updated. Photo credit: Resolutions and goals via photopin (license)

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives for great articles you might have missed over the years. This article about a dad’s introverted teen daughter comes from 2018.

I recently ran into the mother of a girl at my daughter’s high school. Both our kids are seniors this year; they know each other and are casual friends.

After congenial hellos in the line at our neighborhood coffeehouse, she asked, “So! What are Riley’s plans after graduation?”

We’re not totally sure yet, but are looking at colleges in the area.

“The whole college thing is overwhelming, isn’t it?” the mom exclaimed. “How are her grades? How are her SATs scores? Are you applying to places that put a big emphasis on extracurriculars?”

Grades were fine; test scores, fine. I had no idea how much certain schools care about extracurriculars (because of how I’m a bad dad and stuff), so I kept my answers polite but short, without elaborating much.

But this mom could not be stopped.

“Hey,” she said, “did Riley ever decide to try out for any school plays? The last time I saw you, you said she was thinking about doing theater. Theater can do wonders for a kid’s social skills and confidence. Skyler isn’t a theater kid, but she’s really loving her debate team. Plus she’s on the yearbook staff. And she’s doing cheerleading, can you believe it!?”

Riley and I had briefly talked about theater as an extracurricular pursuit, but it ultimately wasn’t for her. I said as much to the mom, then mentally kicked myself for it.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly doleful. “Sounds like she’s still our little introvert, isn’t she? You know what? It’s going to be fine. You shouldn’t worry. A lot of kids grow out of it.”

That’s when I had to suddenly use every ounce of maturity I had to excuse myself politely. It wasn’t just that her tone was condescending and offensive. It was that it was laced with the arsenic glaze of “Thank God my kid isn’t like your kid.”

Thanks for that, but I like my kid just fine, fuck you very much.

Dad and daughter — different teen spirits

I was also an introverted teen. It took me a while to come out of what I perceived at the time as my “shell.” I was shy, awkward and pretty unsocialized. (And, as it turned out, deeply, deeply closeted. But that’s a whole other bunch of blog posts.) I never stopped being weird in my own ways, but I did discover a few social skills and ended up making valuable friends, many of whom are still in my life today. I tapped into some dormant extrovert traits around my junior year. I discovered confidence through my school’s fine arts programs, learned the fine art of partying from my more rebellious friends, and found ways to connect with people from different social circles. As a result, I have deeply fond memories of high school.

But when I became a parent, I firmly told myself that when my daughter became a teenager, I wouldn’t use my own experience as a barometer for what was and wasn’t right for her — a common parenting mistake.

This is good because while my high school experience was about friends, school activities, and sneaking out to late-night parties, my teen daughter is not.

Her high school experience has been different. She has a couple of friends, but very rarely does she have anyone over after school to study or hang out. She’s involved in a couple of afterschool activities, but nothing that has enlarged her social sphere. She doesn’t party. She spends most weekends at home with us and seems content with that. She’s a straight-laced, good kid.

Yes, my daughter is an introverted teen.

Neither she nor I need a Myers-Briggs test to tell us that. I see it in her behavior, and I recently came to appreciate it more than I used to.

Why do people worry about introverted teens or introversion in kids in general?

Because introversion so often runs against what we’re told are valuable skills: sociability, confidence in large groups, and the overall ability to be the life of the party. It’s the stuff of popularity and acceptance. The stuff we see in the kid Most Likely To Do Everything Impressive After Graduation.

In our cultural context, despite what people claim to understand today about the range of personality types, and the values that come with being both an extrovert and an introvert … the extrovert still always seems to win.

Introverted teen at her best

What does life with my introverted teen daughter look like?

• She is smart and funny, yet has limited energy to sustain it with others.
• She likes being around people and has fun in social settings, as long as she can retreat for short breaks to re-energize.
• She likes parties as long as she has an exit strategy available to her. She doesn’t like the feeling of being trapped someplace where there are tons of people. (You know what? Me neither.)
• She likes attention, but only when she knows to expect it, and only in measured doses. In other words, she wouldn’t like having friends throw her a huge surprise birthday party. She does, however, like getting together with a few friends at a time to hang out.
• She has friends but prefers them at arm’s length much of the time. She doesn’t do the deep sharing thing easily with others. The close friends she does have, she cares for deeply.
• She’s a good listener with tremendous intuitive skills. She pays attention. Nothing gets by her. When I’m feeling sad or upset, she will notice and ask what’s wrong. And because she’s so intuitive, I can’t get away with the classic parental deflection answer: “Oh, I’m just a little tired.” She sees right through that.
• She enjoys her own company and is almost completely immune to peer pressure. No one will ever pressure her into doing something she doesn’t want to do.
• She spends her free time diving deep into her own artistic creativity, drawing, sketching and manifesting a world around her that’s more colorful than the one others see.
• She solves problems and addresses challenges by talking them out to herself, rather than looking for others to serve as a sounding board. This means she’s got resilience, resourcefulness, and the ability to think critically on her own.

I do believe that there’s a healthy middle ground between extroversion and introversion, of course. The ability to draw energy both from being with others and from taking time alone? That sounds great. Do you know anyone who has that particular yin-yang balancing act down?

My daughter still has growing to do. As always, I look forward to seeing how she’ll evolve as adulthood approaches. But do I want her introversion to end up being just a phase? Do I want my wonderfully strange, creative, thoughtful girl to “grow out of it?”

Not even a little bit.

Introverted teen photo by Igor Cancarevic on Unsplash

Announced by the clatter of a vintage typewriter, a text message from my wife illuminated my phone. The message contained photographic proof of a mission accomplished: our daughter’s ears were now pierced.

In the photo, she stood in profile, her hair pulled back, a tiny earring adorning her left lobe. A stud, crafted in the form of a red heart outlined in gold, glinted in the light.

When my daughter returned home, her face beaming with excitement, she rushed over to me.

“Daddy, I was so brave!”

“Yes, you certainly were, sweetie.”

Bravery has been a consistent theme of late with my daughter. It started this past spring when she expressed her desire to conquer the water by learning how to swim. This led to “Swim Girl Summer,” the name we gave the season in a nod to her weekly swim lessons.

But now, with her ear lobes properly punctured, our daughter has ushered in a new era: Fly Girl Fall.

‘Mommy, I’m ready to be brave.’

The seeds of this season were planted in the months leading up to her 9^th birthday in August.

My daughter dug through her avalanche of toys and trinkets to unearth a pair of purple clip-on earrings shaped like butterflies that a friend gifted her. She’d stopped wearing them months earlier, but was suddenly sporting them as if they were prized possessions. Her fascination with earrings reached a point where she started using a glue stick to affix pink beads to her earlobes—and proudly wearing them beyond the confines of our home.

Sometimes our children show us better than they can tell us. It was obvious she wanted her ears pierced.

My wife had postponed getting our daughter’s ears pierced when she was a baby. She feared the earrings might appear disproportionate to the size of our daughter’s head, an effect she humorously likened to resembling “Frankenstein.” And as our daughter grew older, we wondered if she could tolerate the piercing procedure and the subsequent healing period. But after my wife explained that getting her ears pierced may be uncomfortable, our daughter declared, “Mommy, I’m ready to be brave.”

So my wife scheduled the piercing appointment for the first Saturday in August as a birthday gift.

Reflection of child’s unique personality

As parents, we often find ourselves marking our children’s growth by traditional developmental milestones. We wait eagerly for them to take their first steps, say their first words, and lose their first tooth. These milestones are important, of course, but the true markers of growth aren’t confined to developmental timelines. They’re reflected in a child’s unique personality and the choices they make.

I came to see that my daughter’s desire for pierced ears was not just about keeping up with her friends or being like Mommy. It was an expression of her individuality.

Our daughter, who has autism, has always been a determined and independent spirit. “Self-directed” is how her developmental pediatrician once described her. From a young age, she approached challenges with the tenacity of a boxer, a trait that has always stuck with me because I was wearing a Muhammad Ali shirt the day she was born. Whether learning to tie her shoes or how to regulate her big emotions, she’s tackled each task in her own way. Getting her ears pierced was just another manifestation of her growing into her own person.

In a world that often fits children into predefined boxes, my daughter is beginning to forge her own path. It’s in the songs she chooses to sing, the books she chooses to read, and now, the earrings she chooses to wear.

Whenever I look at that photo of my daughter’s freshly pierced ears, I feel pride for the confident young girl she’s becoming. But also a touch of wistfulness for the days when she was small enough to cradle in my arms.

I replied to my wife’s text message with a heart emoji. The little red heart outlined in gold hanging from my daughter’s ear is not just an earring. It’s a symbol of her blossoming individuality, a reminder that she’s finding her own place in the world, one small choice at a time.

Photo contributed by the Briggs family.

Your child swearing is funny and cute when it starts. 

When your 4-year-old repeats an errant “What the hell?” or “Holy crap!” in the perfect context, it is hard not to laugh. Even funnier — a full-blown “f-bomb” in front of other kids at the playground or daycare.

I’m joking.

But, come on, it’s adorable. 

Until it isn’t. 

I am beginning to pass the discretionary line of cute-to-cringy when it comes to curse words being used by my elementary schoolers right now. And I’m unsure how to handle it. 

My two youngest children, ages 7 and 10, are not really swearing. They are just “soft swearing.” Using words like “crap,” “pissed,” “BS,” “shh,” and “freaking.” Their usage of these marginal curse words started with a few fleeting, innocent uses to emphasize a feeling. Now, they are thrown around casually and far too frequently for my tastes. During a recent week at church summer camp, my daughter was reprimanded for yelling “Oh, my God” to exude excitement.    

Who is to blame for the swearing tendencies in my youngest kids? I want to mostly blame my teens for gradually getting loose with their cursing around their younger siblings, but, honestly, I am also to blame. I am far too frequently using an “f-bomb” or “BS” to illustrate emphatic points. 

My rules for my child swearing

Should I be concerned with my kids using foul language?

Can/should rules be black and white about children cursing and using bad words?

Should similar rules apply to their parents?

Denying your child is swearing, or ever will, is crazy. So, from that reality, I believe there to be three versions of kid-cursing:

1. Swears I choose to allow (or not allow) in my house.
2. Words not permissible to use in the presence of other adults.
3. Foul language used socially with friends, teammates and/or classmates. 

Each, I gather, requires different rules from me. And, if I can be clear about those differences with my kids, my innate hypocrisy is covered. They will, no doubt, try to call me out when they slip up in using a word they have been able to use at soccer games, but not around their grandparents.

The first two versions – about a child swearing in the house and in front of other adults – are easy to manage. To me, kids routinely cursing to make a point before the college years is a no-no. While not judging other houses for letting kids throw down an “MF’er” during a heated conversation, I would prefer my kids to get into the practice of emphasizing points without swearing. The words my kids use reflect the way I speak – which, too often for me, involves colorful language I should have left out. I especially need to watch my mouth as I interact with my friends in front of my kids more. Our adult-to-adult conversations can get gnarly. All that said, to me, my children should not be swearing to or in the presence of adults, in my house or outside.

Teaching kids about cursing that happens around them socially, with their friends or at school, is much more difficult.

Over the past year, I’ve heard children at my kids’ elementary school use every bad word in the book – from those I’d consider marginal to the soap-in-your-mouth ones. My kids have watched in horror when I’ve called these potty-mouthed kids out: “Hey, watch your mouth around the school!” I find younger kids to quickly apologize for their lapse in linguistic judgment. Teens, meanwhile, flash a condescending-but-mildly-embarrassed type of look in my direction before quickly scurrying off. 

Cursing in the heat of competition

When the competitive juices are flowing on the fields of play, holding kids accountable for using foul language is much tougher. If you have a teenager, they are either talking or taking “trash” consistently – on the field, court, track, backstage, everywhere. 

I attempt to hold the line in teaching my kids to take the high road using clean language. However, certain times require some escalated, even bad, words.  Disciplining a kid for swearing during competition is far more subjective. 

If a “sh*t” comes out as a natural reaction after my son makes a bone-headed turnover, so be it. There just cannot be a rule here. Kids must learn through experience or, in this case, by making mistakes in the presence of adults whose definition of appropriate times to swear is different than mine. 

And that’s what makes this issue drip with variability. Every parent not only handles their child cursing differently, but the treatment of each instance also varies wildly by context, not just the time and place but the child’s age and level of vulgarity. For example, some parents are okay with the “s” word, but the “f” word is worthy of punishment.

This stuff is hard. 

We’re all in this together, I guess. I find comfort in the shared hypocrisy of my scolding our 15-year-old for swearing from the passenger seat when a car rolls through a stop sign in front of us while I laugh at our toddler who repeats the same curse from his car seat a few moments later.     

The are no swearing rules, after all. 

So, f*ck it. I’ll do the best that I can.  

Child swearing photo: © nicoletaionescu / Adobe Stock.