We spend a lot of time offering tips and tricks for travelling with kids, but we should really spend time talking about something that matters far more: driving with kids.
I’m not a fan of yellow triangles and baby-on-board bumper stickers, but we really are carrying precious cargo even as we do the school run or try to get to practices. The family vehicle might be the single best place to talk to your kids, when you’re all held captive.
Oh, I know – the advent of cellphones, earbuds and infotainment systems bends my argument, you’re thinking. But those are really nothing new; my two had Game Boys 20 years ago, and I used to bury my nose in a book 20 years before that. Distractions aside, the fact remains that until they’re off driving on their own, this is probably the closest you will be to your kids when they can’t run away. Use it. Use it wisely.
It’s been suggested the loss – or lessening – of an entrenched family dinner time has weakened the bonds, or snapped the anchor, of the modern family. While I agree that how we work and interact may have shifted, I also believe families don’t have to follow some strict archetype to be successful. My dad worked shifts for 24 years; that was hardly an anomaly. Was it easier because my mom had dinner on the table every night? Sure it was. But while raising my own two boys, I realized the time we spent in the car provided just as many connections.
I used to let them listen to whatever radio station they chose, mostly because I wanted to know what they were listening to. I’ll never forget Ari, about four at the time, singing away to Bon Jovi in the back seat. At the chorus, I glanced into the rearview in time to see him pointing his two pudgy fingers right at me, singing, “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give loooooooooooove a bad name.” His dad and I had recently divorced; I tried not to take it personally.
Children learn as you ferry them about. They learn how to drive by watching you drive, and they learn how much patience you have – or how much you don’t have.
Neil Dunlop, National Post
A lot of good conversations happen in cars. Teens especially are easier to talk to when they don’t have to look you in the eye. Sometimes they don’t even have to be taking part to be avidly listening; sometimes those earbuds aren’t blasting away as loudly as you think.
Children learn as you ferry them about. They learn how to drive by watching you drive, and they learn how much patience you have – or how much you don’t have. You can teach them basic courtesy from an early age, from something as simple as allowing pedestrians to cross, not honking at everything that doesn’t go your way, or leaving a note if you clip a car in a parking lot. If the radio is on, a lot of topics come up. Some of those topics are embarrassing, but I’ve always had a house rule: if my kids are brave enough to ask me something, I have to be brave enough to answer.
That captive part is a two-way street. My then 7-year-old decided the car was an excellent place to discuss sex. He and his younger brother were horrified to realize I’d not only done that with their father, but that I’d done it twice. And this was after I’d given love a bad name.
Having a Bluetooth connection might let you get a jump on your work day, but I suggest you don’t take calls while your kids are in the car. When you’re on a phone or laptop, at home or on the road – talking, texting, Twittering, Facebooking, socializing or working – you do not get to count that as time spent with your kids. They know exactly where your attention is, and it isn’t with them.
Engage them; don’t start your to-do list while they’re still in the car. I don’t say that as some bossyboots who doesn’t remember toddlers freeing themselves from car seats or sullen teens insisting they could be staying home alone. I say that as someone who finally recognized, with a little patience on my part, that the car could be a crucible every bit as important as sitting down for half an hour every night at the dinner table.
Youngsters need you to filter the world for them. They want to ask why that man is dressed that way or why that girl is yelling. If you’re on a call, they see these things and then they’re gone, and so is the opportunity to find out how they’re interpreting the world you’re propelling them through. Teens want to know you were a teen once, when Grandma first let you drive or why Uncle Alex isn’t allowed to.
Your connectivity shouldn’t start with the technology in your car. It should start with the people in it.
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