Bringing common sense with a grain of salt back to parenting!
Parents once dreamed of relaxing evenings. Now we’re unpaid Uber drivers, carting kids from karate to coding to clarinet like frazzled chauffeurs — without the tips, and with backseat karaoke on repeat.
Mistake: Overscheduling kids (and ourselves) into exhaustion.
Consequence: Running a part-time taxi company with zero pay and surly passengers.
Reality Check: Childhood doesn’t require a LinkedIn-ready résumé by age ten.
It starts with one after-school activity — soccer, maybe. Then comes piano, karate, tutoring, coding, choir. Suddenly your seven-year-old has a calendar more crowded than your own, and you’re sprinting from one parking lot to the next like you’re competing in the Triathlon of Parenting. Let's look at why we do it, how it backfires, and how to reclaim sanity before you need an oil change every month.
THE ISSUE
It’s 4:17 p.m. You’re in traffic, wedged between a school bus and a delivery van, nibbling the last Goldfish cracker you scavenged from the floor mats because dinner is now an abstract concept.
“Mom, we’re late for karate,” your eight-year-old announces from the backseat — as though you hadn’t noticed the line of brake lights stretching into eternity.
“After karate, we still have clarinet,” you mutter, mentally calculating if teleportation has been invented yet. Tomorrow is coding club, then soccer, then tutoring, then choir. You don’t even remember what a free evening looks like anymore.
The kicker? Your child sighs from the backseat, “I wish I could just stay home and play.”
You’re not just a parent anymore. You’re a full-time logistics manager with a side hustle as an unpaid Uber driver. Your clientele is demanding, leaves crumbs everywhere, and offers no tips beyond the occasional “You’re the worst driver ever!” review.
WHY PARENTS DO THIS
Not so long ago:
After school, kids came home.
Activities? Maybe one. Soccer, Scouts, piano — that was plenty.
Free time meant biking around unsupervised, climbing trees, or building lopsided backyard forts.
Parents’ evenings were mostly intact.
Today, children's afternoon schedules sometimes resemble the calendar of an exceptionally busy executive:
After school is a blur of scheduled activities.
Kids juggle multiple commitments — dance, robotics, language lessons, sports.
Parents juggle traffic apps and drive-thru menus.
Even “downtime” is scheduled in 15-minute blocks.
Of course, we don't overload our children, because we want them to experience burnout before they turn 10. We do it for good reasons, because of:
Fear of Falling Behind. We’re told enrichment must start early. Mandarin immersion at 6. Violin at 7. Robotics by 8. Otherwise they’ll miss “the window.” Parenting feels like an arms race disguised as extracurriculars.
Peer Pressure. On the playground, you overhear: “Olivia does piano, ballet, and fencing.” Suddenly your child’s single art class feels like negligence.
Genuine Curiosity. We want kids to explore passions. But instead of letting them pick one or two, we enroll in all of them, hoping something sticks.
Childcare by Proxy. Sometimes activities bridge the awkward hours between school and dinner. It feels useful — and keeps kids busy.
Our Own Ego. Let’s be honest: “He plays piano, does karate, and speaks Spanish” sounds much shinier at family gatherings than “He plays Minecraft for three hours.”
Childhood used to simmer like a slow stew. Now it’s more like an air fryer: hot, fast, and always on a timer.
HOW THIS HARMS CHILDREN (AND US)
Running a ride-share empire where the only payment is sighs and sticky wrappers has many hidden (and not so hidden) costs:
Burnout. Even kids get tired. Soccer practice three nights a week plus clarinet rehearsals isn’t “fun” anymore.
Loss of Play. Unstructured time — vital for creativity — disappears.
Anxiety. Kids internalize the hustle: “I must always achieve.”
Family Fracture. Shared meals vanish. Siblings stew in resentment over unequal chauffeur service.
Financial Drain. Uniforms, instruments, travel costs — suddenly you’re financing a small extracurricular empire.
Passion Fatigue. Activities meant to spark joy become chores. The love of piano or soccer fades when it consumes every free hour.
WHY IT’S TEMPTING TO KEEP DOING IT
Because it works — short-term. Kids stay busy, parents feel productive, Instagram looks impressive. But long-term? Exhaustion, stress, and joyless kids.
AVOIDING THE TRAP
Luckily, there are parental life-hacks to support kids' curiosity without running a full-time taxi company:
Limit the Menu. One or two activities per season is plenty. Childhood doesn’t need a sampler platter of every skill. (We can try with “Pick your favorite among these.” Result might be a happier kid and much calmer evenings.)
Protect Free Time. Downtime isn’t wasted. It’s where creativity lives: blanket forts, weird dance moves, and the kind of role-playing games that involve talking to lamps. (No Nobel Prize winner or world champion has ever said, “I regret that afternoon I spent climbing trees.”)
Follow the Spark, Not the Checklist. Does your child light up at karate but sulk at piano? That’s a clue. Go where the joy is — not where the résumé shines.
Carpool Like a Champion. Build alliances with other parents. One trip instead of five. (“I’ll cover chess if you take swim.” might help two fathers get one more free night a week.)
Resist the Résumé Illusion. Harvard won’t care that your kid played clarinet at age 8. They’ll care that your kid can think, laugh, and handle setbacks.
Reclaim Family Dinners. Fight for mealtime. Even if it’s scrambled eggs at 8:30, it’s worth it. Shared meals are glue.
Schedule Off-Seasons. World-class athletes rest. Kids need breaks, too. Build in weeks with no activities at all.
Redefine Success. Success isn’t karate belts or piano recitals. It’s a child who feels loved, balanced, and curious.
MISTAKES TO AVOID
Treating childhood like a LinkedIn profile.
Saying yes to everything out of fear of missing out.
Confusing busyness with enrichment.
Sacrificing dinners and downtime.
Ignoring burnout signals.
THE PAYOFF
When we stop treating life like an after-school Uber shift:
Kids rediscover joy in chosen activities.
Parents breathe without living in traffic.
Families reclaim meals, conversations, and actual evenings together.
Years from now, your child won’t say, “I loved doing karate, piano, soccer, and coding all at once.” They’ll say, “I loved blanket forts, family dinners, and laughing in the car.”
Because the real enrichment isn’t a packed calendar. It’s space to grow, to laugh, and to just be kids.
© Kristijan Musek Lešnik, 2025
