I can hear the sounds of playful chaos in the other room—a gentle thud followed by laughter that’s impossible to ignore. It’s a familiar symphony of my three boys, filled with squeals and the occasional crash as they tumble over one another. “Stop sitting on me!” shouts my 6-year-old, while the 4-year-old bursts into giggles. Another thud echoes through the house, signaling another round of their playful antics.
Roughhousing is a daily occurrence in our home, and I’m all for it. My husband is the quintessential playful dad—swinging the kids upside down, encouraging them to create “alligator stacks” with their siblings, and engaging in tickle fights. While I may not join in on the acrobatics, I’m often found surrounded by hugging little bodies, with the youngest usually perched on my lap. We’re a physically affectionate family, holding hands while wandering through Target or strolling down the street.
Since my husband encourages rough play, it’s no surprise that the kids engage in it with each other. What starts as a game under the covers quickly escalates into playful punches and rolling around on the floor. They know to avoid each other’s faces and sensitive areas, and they understand each other’s limits. So, I let them be.
Research supports this notion, too. Touch is known to release oxytocin—a hormone that fosters social bonding, boosts trust, and alleviates stress. In their book The Art of Roughhousing and Why Kids Need It, authors Anthony T. DeBenedet, M.D., and Lawrence J. Cohen highlight how roughhousing can enhance cognitive skills, improve emotional intelligence, and promote ethical behavior.
My children can instinctively tell which of their friends enjoy roughhousing. They adapt their play style accordingly, steering clear of friends who prefer quieter games. For instance, they have a family friend who has never engaged in rough play, and my kids respect that boundary. Conversely, my oldest has a buddy who’s just as enthusiastic about wrestling as he is. Once, that friend’s mother misinterpreted their playful wrestling as something dangerous, but to them, it was simply a fun game.
In today’s world of helicopter parenting, letting kids engage in rough play often raises eyebrows. Many parents are hyper-aware of potential injuries and see any bout of roughhousing as dangerous. A common assumption is that if two kids are wrestling, it’s the parents’ fault for allowing it. This mentality labels rough play as a sign of naughty children and irresponsible parenting. Instead of embracing the fun, many parents emphasize the need for kids to “keep their hands to themselves.”
I’ve faced judgmental looks on the playground when my kids start tackling each other or sparring with sticks. What those criticizing parents don’t realize is that I only allow rough play when both parties are willing participants. If it devolves into a fight over a toy or if someone gets hurt out of anger, I intervene immediately. There’s a distinction between healthy wrestling and fighting, and I make sure my kids understand that.
So long as both kids are on board, I’m all for letting them roughhouse to their heart’s content. After all, it’s part of their growth and development, and I see no reason to put a stop to it.
For more insights on parenting, check out this post on our blog. If you’re curious about the journey to parenthood, Make a Mom offers great resources on home insemination kits. And for comprehensive advice on pregnancy, Healthline is an excellent resource.
Summary:
Roughhousing is a natural and beneficial part of childhood development. Allowing kids to play physically helps foster social skills, empathy, and emotional intelligence. While some may view rough play as dangerous, it’s essential to differentiate between healthy wrestling and fighting. As long as play is consensual and safe, it should be embraced as a vital aspect of growing up.