When Everything Is Special, Nothing Is

“Mommy, every time we have a school concert or recital or dance, my friends get flowers. Why don’t you and Daddy bring flowers for me?”

It was a fair question, but the answer wasn’t easy to explain to an eleven-year-old. I told Grace we love to celebrate her and have fun experiences with her, but getting flowers is special. If she got them every time she did something, they would start to lose their meaning. She nodded but was still disappointed.

As a parent, I wrestle with this concept regularly, and as a parent in the midst of summer break, I’m faced with it daily! Our children—and our society—bellow, “Entertain me! Amaze me! Astound me! Make every day magical!” And when the demands are wrapped in phrases like, “Enjoy your children while you have them, because they will be grown in the blink of an eye,” they seem logical, maybe even necessary. So we do our best to give our children magical childhoods. We scour Pinterest for the cutest snack recipes, we create scavenger hunt lists to take on family hikes, we plan elaborate trips with minute-by-minute itineraries, trying to squeeze every last possible drop of special out of every moment of life.

Is it really possible to make every day magical? Is it wise? Or does it leave us with a warped idea of what “special” really means?

A few days ago, I decided our family needed a little outing.

“Hey guys, I have an idea!” I announced excitedly. “Let’s go see a movie!” I was certain they would knock me over trying to get to the van. Instead I heard, “Meh. No thanks.”

What on earth is wrong with these kids? I asked myself. I would never have turned down a chance to go see a movie when I was their age! They’ve seen more movies at nine and eleven than I had by the time I was a full-grown adult!

I realized that was exactly the point. Going to the movies has lost its sparkle. They’ve done it enough that the “special treat” has become mundane.

So what is the answer? Bigger, better, shinier things? What happens when those start to lose their luster? Even bigger and even better? When does it end?

May I suggest this? Maybe instead of trying to make every day special, we need to focus on making our days count. Instead of spending hours planning and prepping the perfect outdoor adventure day, we spend those hours just playing outside with our kids. Instead of going for ice cream after every soccer game, we give hugs. Instead of scheduling our summers down to the minute, we spend an entire day in our pajamas and relax—and even let our kids get bored. They’re way more resourceful than we give them credit for. They’ll find ways to pass the time. (If experience has taught me anything, the pajama day will end up being their favorite day of the entire summer break!)

[Tweet “Let’s sprinkle in the magic when it really counts.”] I know you’ve been thinking I’m anti-Pinterest and against surprise trips to Disney and celebrating my kids. I’m not. I love all those things. I just want to use them sparingly so they can really shine.

A few weeks after my daughter asked about the flowers, she graduated from our elementary girls’ program at church. The program had been a major part of her life for six years, and it culminated in a big ceremony complete with white dresses and dads walking the graduates down the aisle. My husband decided it was the perfect occasion for Grace’s first corsage. She beamed at it with tears in her eyes for the entire twenty-minute ride to church, and as she got out of the car, she whispered, “I get it now, Mommy. If you had bought me flowers every time, I wouldn’t be able to love these so much now.”

That, I thought, was pretty magical.

Katy Epling is a writer, speaker, and “masterpiece in progress” (Ephesians 2:10) from Akron, Ohio. She and her husband Jon have three beautiful children who provide her with multitudes of material—both dramatic and comedic. Learn more about her heart and ministry at katyepling.com.