Twelve years into this parenting gig, I’m finally starting to embrace something has taken me a while to recognize or define: serial obsessions.
First, for my son, it was pots and pans (mostly banging on them).
Then it was trains (all kinds).
When pictoral instructions became accessible, we introduced a Lego train. I noticed a shift to all things Lego and suddenly our house exploded with all kinds of Lego creatures and our meager retirement funds took a hit from investing in plastic bricks.
The day a beetle landed on his arm and stayed for an hour, we became all things insect for a season.
When we introduced screen time, building all kinds of roller coasters in Minecraft took over.
This summer, after some press about sharks on Cape Cod, a trip to the aquarium, and a robotics camp, we’re now immersed in sharks and robots (best, of course, when mixed together).
These themes mean, by definition, total and complete immersion. We get library books on the subjects. We go out of the way to trek to museums or groups on these topics. Our vigilance for second-hand shopping deals follows these threads. Most dinner conversations include at least a mention if not a full meal’s worth of discussion on the topic.
Truth be told, I would define my first child’s evolution of interests as just that: interests. Though she has gone through a few specific phases that I can remember, single topics do not hold her fascination as powerfully or as long as they do my son’s. I cannot speak to whether it’s a gender-, personality-, birth order- (as second child, my son did have to entertain himself more often than my daughter), some other kind of variation, or all of the above, but it is decidedly different for the two unique people I’m guiding along through childhood.
Perhaps that’s the reason it took me a while to recognize the parenting opportunity in these serial obsessions and, instead, why I was So. Completely. Tired. Of. Trains.
I think, early on, I wasn’t actually certain the obsession would ever end. I thought perhaps we might have to send him to college on a train. Like many other parents, I’m sure, I projected a future career path for him based steam engines. I worried that his narrow focus would prevent him from learning about other, equally interesting subjects.
While I did entertain each of these topics in turn, my own hesitations and anxieties meant I also spent more energy than I wish to admit trying to distract him toward other subjects. “Would you like to explore these flowers, love?” “Would you like to learn how to cook scrambled eggs with me?” Sometimes he amused me and joined in; most of the time he found a creative way to link it back to his current absorption.
Of course, I found the most success in these “distractions” when they related at least tangentially to his interest du jour, such as introducing magnets during his fascination with magnetic levitation trains or talking about flowers and their two-way relationship with pollinators during his insect phase.
The day he created a Lego roller coaster model after studying the rides at a local amusement park and building the same model in Minecraft, I realized (in a suprising-because-it-took-me-so-long moment of clarity) that not only were my worries unfounded, these serial obsessions were a beautiful gift of a window into exactly how my child learns.
When he is interested in something, my son dives in with wild abandon and a stunning depth of curiosity. His laser-like focus allows him to absorb and assimilate all kinds of new information about the topic which makes him a wonderfully knowledgeable dinner companion as long as you appreciate the topic and/or find enthusiasm contagious. He is equally happy researching and tinkering by himself or sharing his interest with anyone who shows even mild interest. He builds such a deep understanding that he makes surprising connections to seemingly unrelated topics. He remembers everything single thing from every serial obsession.
Through these interests, he has been motivated to build all kinds of other very important life skills. Reading, for example. If he’s interested in something, he’ll figure out a way to read about it, whether asking me to read to him or persisting through very challenging words to figure it out himself. Studying things in such detail has also made him an excellent sketch artist and a strong 3D modeler. He has also, somewhat amusingly, built a strong singing voice, as he usually sings softly to himself as he putters with a new interest.
I get it now. My son has been showing me, over and over, exactly how his brain works best. So instead of trying to distract him, I look for every possible opportunity to enrich what he’s interested in. He explores, I listen, we adventure out together to learn more. (Along the way, I’ve become a bit of an inadvertent sous-expert myself!)
I can’t say that my revised approach to parenting through these obsessions has changed his experience much - he was born to work this way, and seems driven to do it no matter the approach the adults take. I can say, however, that this shift has had a profound impact on the way I arrange my time with him, the way I advocate for him as a learner at school, and even the way we budget our money (we’re less than two years away from his eligibility for a SCUBA license, if sharks and robots are still in the lead at that time).
I may never get in a shark cage with him, but I will absolutely support him as he figures out what he needs to do to get in one himself. Perhaps, by then, he’ll be onto new horizons and interests. I never know. He’s in the lead.