I begged. I bribed. I cajoled. I scolded. I punished. But I could not make my kids be quiet on the weekend mornings.

Sleeping in on the weekend is one of my favorite things, especially now that the boys are tweens who can be left on their own instead of toddlers who need constant monitoring. Having unsupervised screen time is one of my kids’ favorite things, so this should be a win-win.

Why, then, were our gentle slumbers being interrupted by a bathroom door slam at 6:30 am? Why was someone stomping downstairs at 7am, or fussing about whose turn it is to have the controller? I hear a squeal over an exciting video game match, and ugh, fine, I’m up!

Then, one day as I was scrolling through Instagram, I see this video. It’s a dad doing a “workout” with his two sons he describes in the comments:

The proper workout routine.

• 3 sets of 6 soft door closes – focus on turning the knob before you start to close the door and a nice slow even motion
• then 3 sets of 30 second toe walks
• and super set with a set of stairs both up and down.
• Focusing on absorbing the full body weight while creating a slight spring effect….you’ll thank me later

This guy is a genius! I had done everything except have my kids actually practice going downstairs quietly in the morning. Duh! I should know better. I’m a theater professional. I believe in rehearsal.

I say this all the time in my corporate improv classes, “If you want new outcomes, you need to have new behaviors. If you want new behaviors, you need to rehearse them.”

This is why participants don’t get to sit quietly for a lecture about the importance of being open to other’s ideas. They can’t just smile and nod thinking, “That’s important. I should do that.”

They need to try it and see how hard it is. They need to put it in their bodies, play around with it and get feedback. They need to rehearse if they want to get better. They are lying to themselves if they think they’ll have the time or courage to try it on their own after the workshop. This is why I’m such a firm believer in experiential learning.

So, I had to put it to the test with my kids. And since I know them well, I made it a quiet-obstacle-course-contest: who can open the door, go downstairs, pick up a bowl from the cabinet, pull out a chair, put the bowl on the table, and sit down the quietest? I had Travis go first because he’s the expert, sneaking out of the house most mornings at 4:30am to hit the gym before work. Then it was the boys’ turn. I’ve never heard them be quieter.

It’s worked, for the most part. The boys are aware of how much time and effort it takes to really be quiet in the mornings. They know my expectations and that they are capable of achieving them. We’ve had some slip-ups, which just means it’s time for more practice: ten tip toes up and down the stairs, young man! This way, they get pancakes and bacon in the morning, without all the grumbles.