We started doing something called Family Fun Day a couple years ago—mostly because our kids gave us blank stares when I approached it as the new “Family Board Meeting.”
Yes, the name is dumb and cheesy, but to be fair, our kids were like 4 and 6 and we wanted these days to feel exciting and a little less like a Q4 earnings call.
But the idea definitely wasn’t ours.
It came from a short book I read called The Family Board Meeting by Jim Sheils.
The core message was this: you only get 18 summers with your kids. That’s it. Eighteen.
And some of them are already gone.
That idea—that time is short, and your window of influence and literal closeness is even shorter—is what stuck with me.
The book offers a framework for creating deeper connections with your kids before that window closes, and here are the critical points it lays out:
- One-on-One Time: Schedule dedicated time with each child individually.
- Regularity: Hold these meetings every 90 days.
- Duration: Spend at least 3–4 hours together.
- No Electronics: Eliminate digital distractions to ensure quality interaction.
- Child-Led Activities: Let the child choose what to do (within reason).
- Reflective Conversation: End the day by talking about how it went—what they liked, what stood out.
There’s really no agenda beyond presence, connection, and saying “yes” to whatever crazy sh*t they want to do.
How Our Family Does It
We adapted the idea, took what we liked, discarded the rest, and made it super simple.
Here’s our version:
- Once per quarter
- One parent per child (we switch each quarter)
- Minimum of 3 hours
- No screens, no phones (besides using for maps)
- The kid chooses the activity (within reason)
We’ve been doing it for about two years now with our two kids—Johnny (10) and Pella (7)—and like most things in parenting, it’s been equal parts rewarding, unpredictable, exhausting, and occasionally baffling.
Here’s What I’ve Learned
1. Idea generation is harder than expected.
Our kids aren’t sitting on a bucket list of dream adventures. Maybe yours are, but that’s not our kids. Sometimes they shrug, or act indifferent. Other times, their ideas are logistically wild or just plain bad. But part of the point is helping them learn what they enjoy. And as they get older, their choices get better (and thankfully, a little easier to pull off).
2. Expectations are the enemy.
I once planned a really fun overnight trip to New York with my son, Johnny. It was going to be epic: train ride just the two of us, giant M&M store, New York pizza, the Big Apple Circus.
And for some reason, as soon as we arrived, he just completely shut down. Stomach ache. Bad mood. Disinterested in everything. I was frustrated and wanted to rip his little head off. But I reminded myself: this day isn’t about me. It’s his memory, not mine, so chill the eff out.
And weirdly? He now remembers it in such a different way.
He brings it up with a smile and a “Dad, remember the circus?!”
The kid cracks me up. Sometimes, they reframe it into something better than you ever could have planned in the first place.
3. The best moments are often the least expected.
One December, my daughter Pella—then five and a half—asked if we could stay overnight at the W Hotel in Philly just because it had a rooftop pool.
I have no idea how she found that out (probably me) and why she was infatuated with it (probably also me), but I’m a sucka for my daughter, so I said yes. Did I mention it was mid-December? We spent all day at the Christmas Village downtown, ice-skated (brutal), rode the Ferris Wheel (awesome), and ate spaghetti at a casual Italian spot. And then yes, we did swim in that rooftop pool.
It was freezing, and chaotic, and there’s no way the newly engaged couple also in the pool were happy to see me and my little daughter. But… it was dope.
She now brings this up as one of her all-time fave memories.
Why I Hope It Matters
Not every Family Fun Day is a hit, lemme tell you that much.
I just got back from a 3-hour stint at The Franklin Institute today that mostly fell flat.
Nothing clicked. She was kind of “meh.” My old ass knees were hurtin’ by the end.
But honestly? Even if we bat .500 on these, I’ll take it.
The point isn’t to hit a home run every time.
The point is to carve out real time—without siblings, without phones, without distractions—for each kid to just be. Without the shadow of their sibling, without competing for attention, without us trying to multitask.
It’s also a reminder for us, as parents, to slow down and to say “yes.”
To give our full attention. And to let our kids lead—if just for a few hours.
The four of us are usually always together. And we love it that way.
But the one-on-one time lets something else emerge. It reminds us who they are without the constant push-pull of sibling dynamics.
It’s not always easy, or magical, but I’m always happy we did it.
