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“Mom, I think I don’t want to live anymore,” my 10-year-old stated flatly during our ride to soccer practice.
If it were any other child, I would have pulled over immediately. But this is Noah we’re talking about. So, without adjusting the volume of his carefully selected playlist, I slipped into my Cool, Collected Mom persona. “Oh? What makes you say that?”
“I just don’t want to deal with the world ending.”
I encouraged him to elaborate (just like my parenting podcast suggested). What followed was a somewhat exaggerated, yet heartfelt, account of global warming as interpreted by a child barely in his double digits.
Noah expressed concerns about melting ice caps, rising temperatures, floods, droughts, and even cow emissions.
Phew, I thought. This isn’t about self-harm. Just the end of the world as we know it.
For some context: Noah lives in a comfortable bubble with a two-story house in the suburbs, a dad in tech, a mom who used to teach, three younger siblings who idolize him, and a vast library of Disney films. His usual grievances include sharing a room with his brother, trumpet practice, and any kind of vegetable.
Most days, Noah has grand ambitions for his future. He’s told me he might want two kids if he gets married, dreams of living in a penthouse in New York City with his favorite cousin, owning a pet fox, and becoming a WWE superstar.
I cherish these dreams for him.
However, for at least fifteen minutes the other day, he was uncertain about whether his future was worth living for. And it shattered my heart.
As parents, we often carry on with heavy hearts. I’ve been navigating this parenting journey for a decade, and while this wasn’t my first encounter with tough conversations, I had to keep my emotions in check. I turned to Noah and discussed what climate change might look like by the time he becomes an adult.
“If we continue on this path,” I explained, “the levels of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases will keep rising. Average temperatures might increase by what many would consider ‘just a little bit.’ But even a small change can lead to significant consequences.”
I painted a picture of how these changes might affect our lives: Uncle Mike, our family firefighter, would likely be away more often to tackle wildfires. Climate change would create warmer and wetter conditions, which would lead to an uptick in disease-carrying bugs.
“Remember how bad your mosquito bites were last week? And how Aunt Sarah had to deal with West Nile virus?”
I continued to outline the potential hazards: worsening allergies, decreased snow and rainfall impacting water supplies, frequent heatwaves, and rising sea levels leading to flooding.
“Most of these changes are going to hurt people who are poor or sick more than others,” I added.
The more I explained climate change, the harder it became to maintain my composure. The world is truly at a tipping point; yet, I had to appear unfazed.
As we parked, I turned to Noah, who was getting ready for practice. I told him, “No matter how difficult life can be, it’s still worth living. You only get one shot at it, Noah. There’s so much joy to be found amidst the chaos.”
He nodded, then shrugged while grabbing his soccer ball. “Yeah,” he called back. “But grown-ups kinda betrayed us.”
I understand, kid. I carry the weight of bringing you into a world that feels precarious.
My children—and yours, too—are growing up with Disney wisdom. “Just keep swimming,” says Dory. “Do the next right thing,” says Anna.
But what are we really asking our kids to keep swimming through? Why have generations of adults often acted contrary to doing the next right thing?
Young people worldwide continue to demand action for their futures. This past September, 400 activists gathered in Milan for the Youth4Climate meeting, drafting recommendations for the 26th Climate Change Conference of the Parties.
The participants represented 180 nations, yet there was an undercurrent of doubt that their proposals would be taken seriously at the U.N. climate talks. Ugandan climate activist Vanessa Nakate expressed frustration, saying, “If leaders talk about cutting emissions, it needs to start now.”
The path forward may be complex, but the steps are clear and essential.
My 10-year-old isn’t asking for the impossible. He just wants a livable planet.
And let’s be honest: Adults, it’s time to stop letting down our kids.
For more information about climate change and its implications, check out this post that offers insights into the realities we face. If you’re looking for authoritative resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit Make a Mom and the CDC’s page on assisted reproductive technology.
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Summary:
In a heartfelt moment, Samantha Green recounts a conversation with her 10-year-old son, Noah, who questioned whether his future was worth living for amid rising concerns about climate change. Despite his fears, she reassures him of life’s value, even amidst uncertainty. The piece highlights the weight of parenting in a world facing significant challenges and emphasizes the urgency of climate action, echoed by youth activists globally.