If you’ve been reading the last few weeks, you know my son broke his finger and collarbone earlier this month.
So, he's not supposed to be playing soccer right now.
He's supposed to be healing.
Well…
He played soccer after school anyway.
Knowing he wasn’t supposed to.
When I picked him up from school the other day, he told me himself. He said he just can't stop. He loves soccer so much.
Then he asked if he was in trouble.
He could have lied. He didn't.
How could I be mad?
I mean, should I be mad at a fish for wanting to swim? That’s how I look at this.
This kid grabs his soccer ball as soon as he wakes up. When he gets home. Sometimes between bites at dinner. While he's brushing his teeth. Right before bed.
And most of the time, he wants me in it.
“Play to three, Dad?”
"Just one more, Dad."
Almost every day. In the morning or at night.
Some days, I’m all in.
Some days, I rush it.
Some days, I figure there'll be plenty more.
Then I have to remind myself... today could be the last "Just one more, Dad."
What’s Inside
THE INSIGHT: "Just one more" might not be about the game.
WHAT TO DO THIS WEEK: Give the one more a real yes, or a no with a time on it.
PICKS: A listen on putting the phone down, a psychologist on play, and a line from Mister Rogers.
CHALLENGE: Catch one "just one more" this week.
THE INSIGHT
The asking doesn't stop. It just changes shape.
Last week was about the setback story, what my son tells himself while he waits to get back on the field.
Turns out he's not great at waiting.
Back in August, I wrote about running the clock forward. The night I had nothing left, and remembered he won't always ask me for a story.
I still believe that. This week I want to look at what it means when he’s asking that.
"Just one more" usually isn't about one more goal.
One way to read it is a kid asking, Will you stay? Am I worth a few more minutes?
And the answer becomes part of the story they build. A full yes might tell them, "I'm worth someone's time." A rushed yes, with one eye on the phone, can tell them something else.
Even when you’re thinking about that email you need to send or that follow-up you just need to get back to… they know when you’re present and when you’re not.
Even with the best of intentions, to give them a good life.
To make sure they are set up for success.
Ultimately, they just want their Mom or their Dad with them.
That’s worth more than anything in the world to them.
There's a well-known study I come back to on this.
In the 1990s, researcher Reed Larson and his team followed 220 kids from fifth grade through twelfth. The kids carried pagers that beeped at random moments, and every time it beeped, they wrote down where they were and who they were with.
Time with family dropped from about a third of their waking hours to about a seventh.
That's the part everyone expects.
The part I don't hear people talk about is this. Time alone with a parent, and time spent talking with them, held steady. The researchers said the drop wasn't about conflict. The world outside the family just got bigger.
So the asking doesn't end. It changes shape.
Right now, at our house, it's "just one more, Dad."
At fourteen it might be "can you drive me?" Or hanging around the kitchen a little too long. Or a song they want you to hear.
At twenty-five it might be a phone call that starts with "got a minute?"
Same question. Just a different shape.
The risk isn't that they stop asking. It's that we miss it when it shows up looking different. Kids who hear "not now" enough times can start taking the ask somewhere else. It's a big part of why some teens still talk to you and some don't.
I don't know when my son will stop asking for one more goal.
I just want to be the dad he still asks when it turns into something else.
WHAT TO DO THIS WEEK
Make the yes a real one.
When your kid asks for one more, one more game, one more page, one more minute:
Notice the ask. Most of them slip by because they show up when we're busy, tired, or halfway out the door. Catching it is half of this.
If it's a yes, make it a full one. Phone down. Eyes up. Five minutes all the way in can count for more than twenty with one eye on the clock.
If it's a no, put a time on it. Some "one mores" are a stall, especially at bedtime, and holding the line there is fine. Try, "Not tonight. First thing tomorrow, before breakfast." Then show up first thing tomorrow. A no with a time on it, kept, still says yes to the part that matters.
Learn the next shape. Think about what "one more" looks like at your house right now. Then ask yourself what it might look like in three years. That's the one to start watching for.
How this looks changes with age.
With little kids, it's loud. "One more!" You won't miss it.
From about eight to thirteen, it gets folded into other things. "Watch this." "Come see what I built." "Can you play?"
With teenagers, it gets quiet. They linger. They text you something funny. They ask for a ride they could have gotten somewhere else. Say yes to the ride.
Pro tip: Point this at your own parents. "When are you coming up?" "Do you have a minute to talk?" That's their version of one more, and it's easy to rush when you're the busy one. Your kids are watching how you answer it.
PICKS
🎧 Listen: How parents can be screen time role models - NPR's Life Kit. What kids notice when we're half there, and simple ways to put the phone down without making it a big deal.
📚 Read: Playful Parenting by Lawrence J. Cohen, PhD - A clinical psychologist on why play is one of the main ways kids connect with us, from toddlers through the teen years. For the parent who says yes to one more and wants to make the most of it.
❤️ Quote: "Play is really the work of childhood." - commonly attributed to Fred Rogers
CHALLENGE
This week, catch one "just one more."
Say yes all the way. Or say no with a time on it, and keep it.
Reply and tell me what your kid's "one more" looks like right now.
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