Simplicity Parenting: Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier, and More Secure Kids

by Kim John Payne

You can see what a family holds dear from the pattern of their everyday lives.

When we act out of reverence, instead of fear, our motivation is stronger, our inspiration boundless.

Parents and I discuss the four levels of simplification: the environment, rhythm, schedules, and filtering out the adult world.

As parents, we must not become “harmony addicted.” It’s tempting to hope that every day might be a sort of “rainbow experience” for our children. Wouldn’t that be nice? If only we could suspend them in a sort of happiness bubble. But they need conflict. As Helen Keller noted, “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet.” Children need to find ways to cope with difficult situations; they need to learn that they can.

When we overprotect, when we become so neurotic about the perfection of our children’s every experience and waking moment, we don’t protect them from sliding along the behavioral spectrum. We push them along it.

Overparenting creates a lot of tension. Our anxiousness about our children makes them, in turn, anxious. Little ones “graze” on our emotions. They feed on the tone we set, the emotional climate we create. They pick up on the ways in which we are nervous and hypervigilant about their safety, and it makes them nervous; so these feelings cycle. Parental anxiety can also slide children along the spectrum. American journalist Ellen Goodman said something that I find both moving and elemental. I carry a tattered copy of it in my wallet: “The central struggle of parenthood is to let our hopes for our children outweigh our fears.”

Kids are not monks who can meditate for hours a day, but they do the equivalent when they are involved in play, in deep, uninterrupted play.

By seeing only tendencies, syndromes, and labels, we risk not seeing our children’s intrinsic intent, their deep biographical gesture in the world.

What we “see,” what we bring our attention and presence to, is at the heart of who we are.

Yet simplification is not just about taking things away. It is about making room, creating space in your life, your intentions, and your heart. With less physical and mental clutter, your attention expands and your awareness deepens.

The most elemental and powerful reason to simplify is this: As your awareness of your children widens and deepens, so too will your love.

“When your child seems to deserve affection least, that’s when they need it most.”

If we respond to our children’s soul fevers by simplifying, chances are we won’t get lost in the hyperparenting jungle. The emphasis is not on us, not on parental heroics or histrionics, not on micromanaging our children’s lives and every emotion. The emphasis is on creating a calming, supportive atmosphere so that they can get through what they need to get through.

Imagine how secure your child will feel knowing that… when something is really “up,” when they don’t feel right, you will notice and respond. when they are overwhelmed—physically or emotionally—normal routines will be suspended. when their well-being is threatened, they will be brought close, be watched, and be cared for. when they are not well, they will be afforded the time and ease to recover their equilibrium. your love will accommodate, and look beyond, their less-than-best selves. they are deeply known and instinctively cared for.

Nothing in the middle of a heap can be truly valued.

One principle is vitally important, and it will be your most trusted guide to simplifying your child’s toys. Ask yourself, “Is this a toy my child can pour their imagination into, or is it too ‘fixed’?” By “fixed” I mean, is it already too finished, and detailed, too much of one—and only one—thing?

As you simplify, you allow children to pour their attention, and themselves, into what they are doing. When they’re not overwhelmed with so many toys, kids can more fully engage with the ones that they have. And when the toy is simpler, children can bring more of themselves to that engagement.

When we don’t try to fill children’s minds and toy chests with prefabricated examples of “imagination,” they have more freedom to forge their own, to bring their own ideas into play.

Play is not a race. It is not an advancement opportunity.

How many toys can your child (depending on their age) put away, by themselves, in five minutes? Let that be your guide.

Kids don’t need many toys to play, or any particular one. What they need most of all is unstructured time.

Children need experience, not entertainment, in play.

as you consider adding new rhythms to your family life, remember: In addition to consistency, the best daily life rhythms offer connection.

A deep comfort in one another’s company is what we look for in family; it’s what we want our children to feel. A sense of ease that doesn’t depend on a shared interest, activity, or conversation.

What can kids do with powerful emotions when they so often feel powerless? Well, there are three areas where kids can exert control and win: eating, pooping, and sleeping. More to the point: not eating, pooping, or sleeping.

Imagine a kid whose very busy schedule looks like a “cropped field,” with rows of activities, classes, and sports, places to go, and things to do. I worry that such a daily life can sow unexpected seeds. It can establish patterns of behavior and expectation that become ingrained, difficult to alter. So much activity can create a reliance on outer stimulation, a culture of compulsion and instant gratification. What also grows in such a culture? Addictive behaviors. You can see the shadow of overscheduling in this definition of addiction given by my colleague Felicitas Vogt: “an increasing and compulsive tendency to avoid pain or boredom and replace inner development with outer stimulation.”

My daughter made a simple observation. She pointed out something that struck her in some way, something she wanted to share. I didn’t need to take that moment and “make it into something” of my own design. I didn’t need to enrich her observation, to repackage it with a lot of information or praise or verbiage, and hand it back to her, with my stamp on it, or ribbons attached. As her father, I don’t have to make every moment a “teaching moment,” or even a “special moment.” I can often just notice.