The roughhousing began in preschool, when the playground transformed into a battleground of imaginary gunfights and playful skirmishes. One day, I received a call from my eldest son’s preschool teacher, who had noticed his penchant for turning sandwiches into revolver-shaped morsels while leading his friends in lunchtime antics. We reassured her that our home was devoid of violent toys and video games, and we would address the matter with him.
“That’s good,” she replied, “but consider allowing him some freedom for that kind of play.”
We were taken aback. “You want us to let him play with toy guns?”
“Yes,” she affirmed. She explained that allowing some form of expression could be beneficial as long as it didn’t lead to real harm.
As my sons entered their teenage years, their innocent interests shifted into a more intense form of aggression and risk-taking. Their play escalated into a whirlwind of rough teasing, climbing, and daring leaps. One day, my oldest son, Leo, accidentally dropped his younger brother while horsing around, resulting in a broken arm—his second injury of that nature. There was also the time a friend’s son accidentally sprayed a chemical into Leo’s eyes, and let’s not forget the infamous fireworks and cologne incident that occurred in our living room.
Then came the day when Leo and his friends decided to poke a wasp’s nest with a stick, leading to a predictable but nonetheless chaotic chase filled with stings. One boy, furious from the initial encounter, returned the next day for “revenge,” which ended predictably poorly. Thankfully, ice packs and Benadryl were enough to soothe the aftermath.
Once my boys took up skateboarding, the injuries really began to accumulate. I found myself haunted by thoughts of their potential accidents—a catastrophic fall leading to serious injury or worse.
“I’m just not ready for this stage of parenting,” I confided to my friend Jason one afternoon at the community pool. As I watched my husband perform gymnastic flips off the diving board while my sons engaged in a water gun battle, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. They had just argued with me about the importance of aiming for the eyes during their water wars.
“It has to hurt to be fun,” they insisted.
“Why can’t I understand this phase?” I lamented to Jason, who was still navigating the calmer waters of early childhood with his gentle, music-loving son. I knew I needed to change my approach and find a way to calm them down.
Jason, ever the wise observer, paused before offering me a single word for my predicament.
“Zoloft.”
I chuckled, thinking it was a joke about medicating my kids.
“No, not them. You,” he clarified.
He was right—not necessarily about medication, but about my need to relax. Trying to curb my sons’ roughhousing was akin to herding cats. I had to remind myself that their behavior stemmed from youthful energy and exuberance. My own upbringing had been quite different, with a family more inclined toward music than physical activity. I never anticipated tending to a string of injuries, which included two broken bones, a mild concussion, and stitches all within a two-week span.
What drives this physicality and thirst for adventure? It’s a simple formula: energy, enthusiasm, and testosterone paired with an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex. My husband, unfazed by the chaos, even joined in, often injuring himself while cycling or engaging in playful wrestling with the kids. He insists that watching fail videos on YouTube teaches them what not to do and sharpens their critical thinking skills.
Since I couldn’t stop their activities, I shifted my focus to preparation. I started lecturing them on protective gear, and Leo even took a first aid course. The local emergency room’s number is saved on my phone, and I’ve educated myself about common injuries like sprains and fractures. We even own crutches! This proactive approach allows me to prevent the distressing crash reels that play in my mind, and while I sometimes wish my boys would spend more time indoors practicing music, I now appreciate that their enthusiasm for risk is a natural part of growing up.
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Summary
Raising teenage sons can be a chaotic experience filled with rough play and injuries. The key is to embrace their energy and prepare for potential accidents rather than trying to suppress their natural exuberance. Through understanding and preparedness, parents can foster a safe environment for their children’s adventurous spirits.