THE LAST WORD
What We Learned About Parenting
at Starbucks
BY KATHRYN STREETER
W ease to our parent-child
relationships. hen our son was four-
years-old, he fell in love.

The object of his aff ection
was voluptuous — and far
too old for him. He saw her
constantly. She had long
fl owing hair and intense
eyes. He called her his “litt le
love.” The fact that our son
was smitt en by the Starbucks
Mermaid was our fault.

ILLUSTRATION BY:TALIA GREENBERG-HUDGINS
One of our oldest family
traditions is spending
Saturday mornings at the
local coff ee shop. Started long
before kids came along, this
easy-going tradition was a
sweet opening to weekends.

Wherever we lived, we
targeted the local coff ee shop,
indie or chain, just as long
as we could reach it by foot.

When we started having kids,
going out for coff ee Saturday
mornings was a tradition we
were determined to continue.

We selfi shly coveted this entrée
into the weekend as a young
couple and didn’t want kids to
change this beloved routine.

Looking back, it was
inevitable that our son’s fi rst
love would be the Starbucks
logo. At our neighborhood
location, we’d wolf down
our weekly dark-roast
coff ee and cinnamon scone
with our baby son and his
slightly older sister in tow. It
was exhausting. No longer
a peaceful, relaxing way
to begin the weekend, our
treasured tradition had been
turned upside-down. It would
have been easy to let this
tradition die with the arrival
of kids. Yet, we persisted,
trying to roll with the times.

When the kids morphed into
fi dgety toddlers, we’d pull out
toys. We started talking about
what restaurant manners
looked like because coff ee
shops off ered a forgiving
environment. As they grew,
we adapted, stashing coloring
books and crayons for
doodling. We’d eventually
watch our litt le ones work
with lett ers and spelling.

Their tastes changed with
their age, resulting in them
branching out, trying
new items on the menu.

Previously, they had faithfully
ordered chocolate chip
cookies because they knew
that on Saturday mornings,
we lifted parental law
regarding what made for an
appropriate breakfast.

Time sped by and one
Saturday we suddenly
realized that the day we had
been pining for had arrived:
we were having conversations
with our kids. We realized
we could actually fi nish our
sentences without meltdowns
or an impatient, “Is it time
to go yet?” In fact, we were
experiencing intentional,
meaningful time together
regardless of the topic of
conversation. Sometimes
we’d just chill and review the
week, or talk current events
and big ideas. Sometimes we’d
have a rare moment when
our blooming tweens needed
to really talk, lett ing us into
their world. Away from the
distractions of the home, there
was more space.

And this basic tradition was
mercifully adaptable, able
to accommodate the various
seasons of family life. An old
friend, this was a tradition
we came to count on, a
comfort during often painful
adjustments. Yet, from its
infancy, the core point of this
family tradition — to hang
out, celebrate and support
each other — remained
unchanged. With amazement,
I watched as we grew closer to
our kids through our steady
and persistent Saturday
habit. We intentionally had
built a routine which had
serendipitously brought
Today we have high
schoolers, and Saturday
morning coff ee starts much
later, or sometimes not at
all because teens need their
sleep. And that is OK. There’s
no question good things are
happening because the kids
will often text us, asking to
meet up after school for coff ee.

By this, we know that our
kids are choosing to hang out.

There’s an element of trust.

They know we’re not going to
ask for deep conversation in
exchange for buying them a
coff ee. Our litt le inexpensive
outings — whether coff ee or
something else — are going
to be whatever they end up
being, no strings att ached.

Together, just hanging out as
a litt le family.

We all want close family
relationships. And we all hope
for strong relationships with
our teens. Yet, if not careful,
we can fi nd ourselves going
from day to day, week to
week, living under the same
roof, but disconnected from
one another. I realize now
that this simple coff ee shop
tradition started something
in motion long ago. Though
I’m still trying to appreciate
its fullness, its richness, its
direct contribution to building
the relationships we have
today with our young adults,
I’m thankful. Starting with
Starbucks, this coff ee shop
routine helped our kids want
to be with us — their parents.

And that’s no small thing.

Kathryn Streeter is a D.C.-
based mom and blogger.

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