I Left My Kids. It Was Nice.

Today I abandoned my children. It felt good. I thought I would feel more anxious or guilty about it, but I was really fine with it. And so were they. It was actually their idea.

It is a fine balance to strike between giving your kids what they want and what they need. Usually they aren’t the same thing. At least for my kids anyway. My kids want whatever is easy. Whatever is comfortable. Meeting new people, doing new activities, trying new food, even watching a new TV show is often too much for their comfort zones. So it is often my job to try to get them out of their little bubbles and out into the world where things are new, uncomfortable, and maybe a little dangerous. Not like real danger. Nobody is risking life and limb over here, but maybe going so far as breaking a sweat or skinning a knee.

Are my kids pampered and soft, or have they just become creatures of their comfortable habits? Probably a little of both. So imagine my surprise when all three of them came to me and asked if they could stay home by themselves while I went out to pick up the pizza. My kids, who are too scared to use the bathroom in the basement by themselves, wanted to be left home without adult supervision. Sure, why not.

I don’t know whose idea it was. My 6 year-old daughter came to me with the idea. Not sure if she thought of it or was just the group spokesperson. Of the three kids, she is probably the most brave when it comes to that kind of thing. Home without dad? No problem. Spider somewhere in the general vicinity of someplace she might need to go? Now that’s another story. She was quick to point out that her 8 year-old older sister would be in charge while I was gone. They had a plan. They had a leadership structure in place. Nothing to worry about. Even my 4 year-old son was on board. He who sleeps with a night light that can light the size of a grapefruit has no issues spending some time sans parents.

I asked the oldest if she was ok with it purely out of parental obligation of doing my due diligence. I knew she would be. The appeal of being the person unquestionably in charge dwarfed whatever apprehension she may have about being home alone. I had no doubts that she would run a tight ship in my absence. I didn’t fear for anybody’s safety so much as I did that their chosen leader would become tyrant. Inherent in her first born status is a built in sense of leadership. Well, leadership isn’t always the right word. Is “sense-of-in-chargeness” a word? Well, it is now. Make no mistake, even when my wife and I are home, when the three kids are together it is not a cheerocracy.

They were fine with it, so I left. It was nice. It was freeing – for all of us. I got out the door and in the car in record time. No reminding anybody fifteen times to get their shoes on. No hoisting kids in the truck. No waiting while each kids takes their turn fumbling with their seat belt. A quick trip was truly just that. Really. The Domino’s we ordered from is only *checks Google Maps* .6 miles from our house. Which did play a major role in me letting them stay home. Yes, I want to push my kids to be self sufficient and not fear what may happen if I’m not in the next room, but I’m not a reckless parent. I’m not going to leave them for hours while I go enjoy a couple of beers or something. Not yet anyway.

I was gone and back before they probably even had time to enjoy themselves that much. When I got back they were playing school in the living room, which is exactly what they would have done if I was home with them. Which was nice to see. There has been a trend of sneaky behavior lately, so I was happy to see they weren’t locked in one of their bedrooms or all in the bathroom at the same time for some odd reason they can’t explain. Because that’s a thing kids do. The little weirdos. They were just playing school. The younger two having story time. The oldest basking in her in chargeness.

Even though it was only a few minutes, I could tell they got a kick out of it. And I could really tell my oldest was proud of herself. Sure, its not like she did anything incredibly brave like go downstairs to the basement at night, but this was big for her. Unlike all the times when she put herself in charge, this time she really was a leader. She asked if she could do it again. I told her yes, for things like short trips to the store, picking up food, picking up somebody from school, stuff like that. I made sure to point out that for something like Mommy and Daddy going out on a date at night that we would still need to get a babysitter. She immediately and completely agreed. Clearly she wanted the responsibility, but not that much.

Eight seems like reasonable age to start giving that kind of responsible independence in small doses. I mean, Kevin McCallister was eight when he got left home alone. And my kids aren’t really alone, they have each other. It’s not like I’m asking them to fight off a team of thieves for an entire weekend, just to not do anything that will require a trip to urgent care or let any strangers in the house while I’m getting some food. Perfectly within the realm of third grade responsibility. Pizza is a half mile away, grocery store is one mile away, coffee shop is right down the street. I can give my kids a taste of self management and push them out of their comfort zone one snack at a time. And last I checked there hasn’t been a string of break-ins and flooded homes in the area. I don’t live in a gated community or anything, but the closest registered sex offender is *checks Michigan sex offender registry* seven houses down the street…sonofabitch I’m never leaving them home again.