The Diabolo Dilemma

A few days ago, I received an email from a grandmother in our community. Not an angry email. Not a dramatic one. Just a tired, honest one.

She explained that every Motzei Shabbos (Saturday night), her family comes together for Melaveh Malkah (a traditional family meal). It is one of the nicest parts of her week. But that week, instead of the usual conversations about children, school and simchas, everyone seemed to be talking about one thing.

Diabolo.

Apparently, all the children wanted one. Everyone had one. And suddenly, this little plastic toy on a string had become a rather big family discussion.

Another thing to buy. Another pressure. Another trend.

The conversation then moved on to whether children should have to earn it. Maybe they should work for it, behave better or simply wait.

What struck me most was something the grandmother wrote towards the end of her email.

Everything feels like a battle.

And I think she was describing something much bigger than the diabolo itself.

Parenting today can feel full of decisions, expectations and pressures. Even something as ordinary as buying a toy can turn into a question about discipline, boundaries or whether we are spoiling our children.

Before going any further, I want to be clear. This is not about telling parents what to do. Every family is different, and every child is different. It is simply an invitation to look at something familiar from another angle.

So, let's talk about this little plastic thing on a string.

More than just another toy

On the surface, a diabolo looks like just another passing craze. But psychologically, quite a lot is going on.

First, there is coordination. The child has to use both hands together while their eyes follow the movement. They are constantly adjusting their timing, movement and balance.

These are the kinds of skills occupational therapists often work on with children, although here the activity happens naturally through play.

The child is not being trained. They are playing.

Then there is patience. A diabolo does not work straight away. It drops. The string tangles. It flies in the wrong direction. Children try again and again before they finally manage to keep it spinning.

There is something quite valuable in that experience.

We often talk about helping children manage frustration and keep trying when things become difficult. Yet here, they are practising exactly that, without anyone having to explain it to them.

They are experiencing frustration in small, manageable doses. And when they eventually succeed, they feel the satisfaction of working something out for themselves.

“Sometimes children learn through play what we struggle to teach them through words.”

And what about the other children?

There is also something social happening.

Children stand around watching each other. Someone manages a new trick; another child wants to learn it. They copy, teach, compete and encourage one another.

There is the excitement of getting something right, but also the pleasure of having someone else notice.

This is not necessarily lonely play. It is shared play, with all the little experiences of admiration, competition and belonging that come with it.

From a developmental perspective, these interactions matter just as much as the physical activity itself.

And unlike passive entertainment, playing with a diabolo requires the child to participate, move and respond to what is happening.

Perhaps the trend isn't the enemy.

So when parents feel annoyed and say, here we go again, another thing the children want, I really understand that feeling.

But sometimes the trend itself is not the enemy.

Sometimes the more interesting question is how we relate to it.

Do we see it only as another demand? Another expense? Another challenge to our authority?

Or can we also recognise that something useful may be happening beneath the surface?

Of course, this does not mean children should get everything they ask for. Nor does it mean every trend is necessarily beneficial.

It simply means that before deciding what something represents, we might allow ourselves to become a little curious.

The grandmother was right about one thing. The conversation around that Melaveh Malkah table had become heavy.

Not because of the toy, but because so much of parenting today seems loaded with meaning.

Earn it. Deserve it. Don't spoil. Don't deprive. Be strong. Be kind. Be consistent. Be flexible.

No wonder parents are tired.

Perhaps the diabolo is reminding us of something quite simple. Children need movement, challenge and opportunities to learn through experience. They need play that asks something of them, and opportunities to share those experiences with others.

And sometimes, as adults, we might benefit from asking not only what is frustrating about a particular trend, but what could actually be helpful about it.

Sometimes the smallest objects open the biggest conversations.

And sometimes, a string and a spinning piece of plastic can teach us more than we expect.