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Bring Back Boredom: The Benefits of Being Bored
Published 1/16/26
Advice
Bring Back Boredom
What is the most triggering complaint you hear as a mom, and why is it “Mom, I’m bored!”
We treat it like a parenting failure, a personal flaw, something to fix immediately with snacks, screens, or a carefully curated activity. If there’s a quiet moment, we rush to fill it. If our kids sigh and say, “I’m bored,” we feel a twitch of guilt—like we should have planned better, tried harder, done more.
But I don’t think boredom is the problem. I think it is the solution. And Harvard agrees!
Boredom Brings Out Our Inner Worlds
When I was little, I spent hours playing games by myself (youngest child problems). You can make any game a single-player game if you really believe in yourself. Battleship, Guess Who, checkers, and card games were always laid out on the floor for an audience of Lego men (Lego women wouldn’t launch for several more years, sadly), everything working together to become part of the world I made up in my head.
I wasn’t creative, I was just bored.
As a Parent, Boredom Can Feel Like Failure
Over this past holiday break, I caught myself panicking that my kids were bored. We didn’t take a fancy trip. There wasn’t a packed itinerary or daily excursions or something Instagram-worthy to point to as proof that I was doing a good job. No constant stimulation. No nonstop entertainment.
And I felt that quiet, shame-adjacent voice nagging me, You’re failing them.
But then something unexpected happened.
They connected.
They invented games. They argued and resolved it. They sat together longer than usual. They laughed in that unforced way that only shows up when no one is rushing you to the next thing. Creativity bubbled up. Tables filled up with games and crafts. Fighting got lighter. Conversations got deeper. The house slowed down.
And I realized: this wasn’t deprivation. This wasn’t a failure.
It was exactly what everyone needed.
We Live in a World of Constant Distraction
There is always something to watch, read, listen to, click, or consume. We never have to let our brains wander. We never have to sit long enough for a real thought to finish forming.
And honestly? There’s a reason we avoid that.
Because when your mind finally has space, things can get uncomfortable. Existential, even. Old fears creep in. Big questions show up uninvited. Regrets. Longings. That low-grade anxiety you’ve been outrunning all day finally taps you on the shoulder.
Why would I want to spiral over my life problems and deepest fears when I could just watch a cute cat singing in a wig on my phone?
(Respectfully, that cat is doing the Lord’s work.)
But here’s the thing: when we never let ourselves, or our kids, be bored, we’re also never letting ourselves process. We’re never letting the brain drop into that deeper thinking mode where imagination lives, where resilience is built, where self-awareness quietly forms.
It Feels Good to be Busy
We feel like good moms when our kids are engaged and entertained. When they’re busy. When they’re booked. When there’s something to point to and say, See? I’m doing it right.
But by keeping them constantly occupied, we may actually be robbing them of one of the most important, brain-shaping skills there is: the ability to be bored.
Boredom teaches creativity.
Boredom teaches problem-solving.
Boredom teaches emotional regulation.
Boredom teaches you how to sit with yourself without immediately needing to escape.
And here’s the part that’s been gently wrecking me:
We have to model it.
If our kids never see us be bored, never see us sit, stare out a window, think, daydream, feel, they won’t learn how to do it either. If every spare second we have is filled with noise, stimulation, and distraction, we’re teaching them that stillness is unsafe
What if by keeping ourselves endlessly entertained, we’re actually keeping ourselves sad?
What if the overwhelm so many of us feel isn’t because we have too much to do, but because we never let our minds rest long enough to catch up to our lives?
I’m not saying throw out the screens or cancel every activity or embrace some kind of joyless minimalism. I’m saying maybe we stop panicking when things get quiet.
Maybe we stop rescuing boredom the second it shows up.
Maybe we trust that something good might be forming underneath the discomfort.
Bring back boredom.
It might just give us, and our kids, our minds back.