Every year, usually after the candy coma of Halloween [1] has worn off, our family begins the ancient tradition of asking what everyone wants for Christmas. Besides trains, clothes, and musical instruments, there is one gift that I wish for for my toddler son, even though I'm too scared to ask for it.
What he needs and enjoys more than any toy or movie are adventures with loved ones and friends. I know that this doesn't fit into a pretty package that can be ripped open on Christmas Day [2], but this holiday, I'm hoping for the gift of an experience.
Museums, indoor playgrounds, petting zoos, and a plethora of classes will do more for him than any one train or puzzle. Yes, toys are great, but toys break, get lost, and can be abandoned. Experiences, especially ones that can be revisited throughout the year, are where it's at. It doesn't need to be a full-scale membership to spark an adventure. Planned trips to the zoo, interesting playgrounds, and beautiful hikes with a family member are also beneficial since they add spice to the monotony of the average day.
For his second birthday, my father got him a membership to our local children's museum. Since it's located in a touristy part of the city, we had never been before. Now we go once or twice a month, and each time is a new experience. Much like playgrounds, I get to watch him challenge himself and approach the museum differently each time.
Additionally, at these classes and museums, he gets to interact with other kids his age. As a toddler with a stay-at-home mom, this is incredibly necessary. Our world can be insular, and since preschool begins next year, he'll be a lot more prepared if he gets more time with other children to learn, play, and explore. There's only so much playtime with Mama he can do.
Besides the obvious educational benefits, experience gifts help me out a ton, which I guess is why they're difficult to ask for. I feel selfish acknowledging this, but my days and time with him are a lot easier if we have something to do. The mornings where we meander from park to park seem to go by a lot more slowly than days where we have an activity planned. This is especially true in the Winter, when the six hours in the morning that are too cold to do anything outside feel like torture.
Yes, I can pay for these museums memberships, classes, and indoor playgrounds, and I do. I can also buy him all the toys [4] and clothes he needs. It's not about need as much as it is what's best for him. As I spend each morning helping him clean up his toys and placing them in his overflowing trunk, I can't help but think that adventures are desperately desired.