The Easy Age

Most parents wonder at one time or other (but especially at 3AM): at what age is a child most easily parented? When are they most compliant? Least demanding? When can we stop worrying so much?

I have finally determined this age, and I'm happy to report it here, for the intellectual, moral, and spiritual enlightenment of my readers. The result of my extensive research, consisting of gripe-fests at three (3!) holiday parties. The easiest age is: 67.

Now, I realize that this means we parents have to live to age 80+, and that this may pose some inconvenience, particularly to heavy smokers and those into risky hobbies, such as scuba spelunking or hogging the TV remote. But the fact remains that at 67, we can stop worrying about them and start REALLY enjoying the whole parenting thing.

In the early months, a parent worries mostly about keeping a kid alive through infancy and toddler hood. The world is full, after all, of poisons, sharp objects, and speeding vehicles. Their cries rouse us at night, and if they don't, their silence surely will! Suffocation is an ever-present concern. Yes, according to studies, an infant can suffocate its parents in mere minutes!

In their early adolescence, we worry about turning out a "quality human" against all odds. Odds being "attention span" which is essentially nonexistent during this period. We worry that they have gone deaf. We worry about them getting injured, or lost, or (thanks to the news) taken! Even when experience tells us that the conveniently marked path of clothing, toys, shoes, coats, and other childhood detritus they leave behind them wherever they go would render that possibility moot.

In late adolescence, we're mostly worried that we'll take them out ourselves, provoked by their ill-timed adoption of sarcasm, and the prospect of seeing our auto insurance rates quadruple overnight. And if we thought their attention span was short at age 8, we were truly lightweights. Now, a single syllable, and their eyes glass over. We worry that they are experiencing brain malfunction on a massive level. How can one roll one's eyes like that, and not be injured?

Once they're driving, we alternate between panic at the thought of a mangled chassis, and fear that just possibly, they'll never leave home. We worry that doing their laundry for them won't prepare them for life. We worry that if we DON'T do their laundry for them, their clothes will come to life and want to be fed, too.

When they're starting their life away from home, we muse that endlessly rocking a colicky baby was nothing compared to moving their truckloads of cheap furniture all over the country. We worry about whether they're making the right life choices. We worry that they're only getting starches in their diet, and would it kill them to visit a greengrocer once in a while? Mostly we worry that we'll end up moving all that stuff back home.

When they're pushing middle age, and have established families of their own, we worry about their level of financial responsibility. About their health, and the health of our grandchildren. And we worry that they'll get into a jam and need to move back home - with their 4 kids, 2 cats, and incontinent golden retriever.

When they've completed their career, retired, and they're starting to collect a list of aches and pains to rival ours, it's finally time to pass the baton! No more kibosh on the carefree! Let them worry about OUR health, OUR choices, and most of all, let them worry that we'll have to move in with them.