Chinese New Year With a Toddler: We Didn’t Do It Perfectly - But We Survived It Together

Before Lunar New Year even began, we went to Chinatown.

It’s something I’ve always done.

Something that still feels like childhood — lights, crowds, that hum of anticipation.

This year the crowds were bigger.

The noise louder.

The atmosphere fully back.

He melted down in the middle of it all.

Because I wouldn’t let him touch porcelain breakables.

Of course.

We left when it was enough.

And in the car, moving away from the noise, I asked him,

“Did you have a good time? Do you want to come back again?”

Without hesitation:

“Yeah. Let’s go again.”

I remember just looking at him and thinking —

I pray you never lose that optimism in this world.

That was before the actual visiting even started.

This is what Chinese New Year with a toddler really looks like - not polished, not perfectly choreographed, but lived in real time.

Chinese New Year With a Toddler - Day 1 at Grandparents’ House

The first house was grandparents’.

He requested to be carried in and stayed close at first.

And then he warmed up.

He played.

He laughed.

He moved around the house confidently.

It wasn’t forced.

It wasn’t performative.

He was stretching.

And I remember thinking, okay — you’re really doing this.

In the Car, On the Way to the Next House

It wasn’t at grandparents’ house that I checked in.

It was in the car, on the way to his grandaunt’s place.

I turned back and said,

“That was a big morning. Are you okay?”

He said yes.

And then he said he wanted to go home.

Both were true.

He was okay — and he was done.

I explained gently,

“This is Chinese New Year. We visit. We greet our elders.”

And I added,

“If after a while you still really want to leave, we can.”

That option was real.

Expectation and empathy.

Side by side.

It wasn’t crisis management.

He hadn’t fallen apart.

It was maintenance.

Because sometimes being “okay” doesn’t mean you don’t need a limit.

And sometimes wanting to go home doesn’t mean you can’t stretch a little more.

The Adults

Let’s be honest.

Chinese New Year stretches adults first.

Spring cleaning.

Reunion dinners.

Red packets.

Decorations.

Coordinating schedules.

Making sure there’s food in the houses you help manage.

Trying to keep time.

Trying to be present.

There were moments when Brandon raised his voice —

and the adults’ voices slowly rose too.

Not dramatically.

Just gradually.

And I remember thinking,

We are more dysregulated than he is.

Not because anyone is terrible.

Just because we are stretched.

Festive seasons are heavy.

Children don’t regulate in isolation.

They regulate inside ecosystems.

Day 2 — The Cost of Holding It Together

He handled the visits better than I expected.

He walked into loud rooms.

Adapted.

Recovered.

Tried again.

Even after melting down in Chinatown.

But evenings told the truth.

Overstimulation.

Spillover.

Big feelings once we got home.

After putting him to bed, I crashed.

Multiple nights.

Not poetically.

Not heroically.

Just completely.

Almost falling asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Which, honestly, I’ve kind of got down to an art now.

And maybe that’s growth too — knowing your biological limits and not pretending otherwise.

There’s Also This Cultural Layer

On the first day of Chinese New Year, you’re not supposed to say negative things.

Not supposed to fight.

Not supposed to “lose it.”

Because culturally, it’s believed that it sets the tone for the entire year.

Whether or not you fully believe that, it sits somewhere in your nervous system.

So maybe part of my restraint wasn’t just parenting philosophy.

It was culture.

It was that quiet awareness that losing myself on Day 1 felt heavier than usual.

And maybe that’s why almost falling asleep felt safer than almost losing my patience.

Capacity, Enabling, Or Something Else?

Before all this, I’d been thinking about capacity versus enabling.

Is the child overwhelmed?

Or are adults accommodating too much?

But watching him this year, I realised something simpler.

He melted down in Chinatown.

He said he wanted to go home.

And he still walked into the next house and tried again.

He stretched.

Sometimes toddlers handle visitations better than some adults in the room.

That’s not criticism.

It’s just… interesting.

And quietly, I was in awe of him.

Not because he was perfect.

But because he kept trying.

Letting Things Go

There were traditions I didn’t uphold this year.

Small ones.

Significant ones.

There was that flicker of,

“Oh man, I didn’t do that.”

And then I looked at the clock.

Looked at my energy.

Looked at my child.

Push came to shove and I thought,

You know what — that’s alright.

My priority is right here.

The living, breathing people in front of me.

There is a kind of perfection in imperfection.

Especially when no one walks away feeling alone.

If Yours Was Messier

If your Chinese New Year felt chaotic.

If your child melted down loudly.

If adults lost patience.

If you left early.

If you dropped traditions and felt guilty.

You did the best you could inside your ecosystem.

Festive seasons magnify everything.

There will be wins.

There will be losses.

Sometimes in the same afternoon.

It wasn’t smooth for us either.

But we didn’t lose each other.

We survived it together.

And in a season full of expectations —

that’s the only tradition I was unwilling to drop.