How to Help Your Kids Engage at Mass: Honest Help for the Restless Sunday

Some Sunday mornings, the hardest part of Mass isn't the early alarm or the homily that runs long. It's the small person on your hip who has decided, loudly, during the quietest possible moment, that now is the time to talk about snacks. If you have ever sat in a pew and wondered how to help your kids engage at Mass while also keeping a toddler from climbing it like a ladder, you are not doing this wrong. You are doing it with little ones, which is its own kind of prayer - and requires it’s own kind of faith and patience!

Here is the thing no one tells you in the months before your first baby: the Mass does not get easier for a while. And then, slowly, in a way you almost miss while it's happening, it does.

What does it mean for a young child to be "engaged" at Mass?

We tend to picture engagement as stillness. Hands folded, eyes forward, the kind of quiet most small children simply do not have in them yet. But the Church has never asked our kids to be tiny adults. I absolutely love the phrase “if hte church isn’t crying, it’s dying”. I’m very sure if you asked your priest if he’d rather hear your little munchkin getting up to something noisy in your pew during the homily, or not have your family there at all because you’re worry about disrupting the people around you - he would tell you just to show up - no apologies or fuss necessary.  When the disciples tried to keep the children back, Jesus was the one who said let them come (Mark 10:14) — not once they could sit still, not once they understood. Their belonging at Mass isn't something they earn by behaving. It's already theirs. 

Yes, sometimes you may get the odd ‘stare’ from a parishoner who maybe doesn’t have kids (or their kids are grown and it’s been many years since they had to wrangle an energetic toddler at mass), and sometimes a comment - but don’t let these get to you. You and your little one(s) deserve just as much a seat at the table as anyone else. And - the more your little one(s) get used to attending mass and all that comes with it, slowly but surely you’ll notice things getting easier - not overnight but it does happen. When you’re inconsistent with your attendance because you’re worried about your little one’s behaviour or the reactions of other parishoners, that inconsistent attendance won’t result in as many gains for your little one in terms of engagement that going every Sunday will - full stop. 

I found initially, I just needed to manage ‘my’ expectations - not those of others. Lower the bar from silent to present. For a four-year-old, engaged might look like pointing at the crucifix, or whispering "is it almost time to walk up for a blessing," or trying their best to kneel the Eucharistic Prayer - even if it’s just these 3 things all Mass - and the rest is whining, climbing or crying. That little bit of engagement still counts. You are not aiming for a child who performs reverence. You are raising one who, over years and years, comes to love being there. If you’re nit picking all of the little things they are doing wrong, instead of fostering their engagement in the moments that their little hearts are naturally engaged, it will be much harder to foster a love of the Mass - and all that comes with it.

Why it's so hard to help kids engage at Mass

It's worth naming why this is genuinely difficult, so you stop blaming yourself for it. Mass is long for a body that is three. The language is beautiful and almost entirely abstract. The hour often lands right on top of a morning nap for the younger ones. And much of what matters most is happening quietly, at an altar, in a register that is hard for a small child to follow. 

My son has ADHD and sensory processing disorder, and so for us, even though he is out of the ‘young years’, because of these challenges he still struggles. The mass doesn’t offer him hte deep sensory input that his little body craves - and it can be really hard for a kid with ADHD to sit still for an hour. Really hard. There are days where he is really engaged, and I always make sure to thank God for those moments (because they are worth their weight in gold), and there are days where I’m fighting back tears on my way out of the church because behaviours were not so great. 

But, we can always try again next Sunday. And we will. 

Before Mass: the small things that help

Most of what makes Sunday go better happens before you ever get to the parking lot.

Talk about it ahead of time. In the car, or the night before, name what's going to happen in plain words — we'll sing, we'll sit, we'll kneel, the priest will lift up the bread and that's Jesus. Kids settle into things they can predict.

We use the Hallow App, as they have some great kids content and especially some small podcasts that talk about that day’s readings. This really helps to frame the readings and homily a bit before we arrive - and helps my son to feel more engaged.

Feed them first. A hungry toddler is not a spiritual problem you can solve in the pew. Have a good breakfast - believe me, the pre-church rush is real, but don’t skip a good breakfast. My son gets hangry (hungry + angry, if you’ve not come across that term before) - and I’ve learned my lesson. 

Sit closer than feels natural. It seems backwards, but kids do better near the front where they can actually see what's happening, instead of staring at the back of a stranger's coat for an hour. We sit a few pews from the front - and my son can always see and hear what’s going on. It really makes a difference in him being engaged.

Pack a small, quiet bag, and keep it for Mass only so it stays a little bit special. Not a pile of noisy toys, but a couple of things that point somewhere: a soft saint doll (we have a Jesus doll that we love), a board book about the Mass, a picture missal they can hold and follow along with.

During Mass: meet your kids where they are

Once you're there, the goal is connection, not control.

Whisper-narrate the big moments. "Watch — he's going to lift it up now”, or “look - the bells are ringing - do you know what that means?” A running, quiet commentary turns a confusing hour into a story your child can follow. 

Give them a job. Find the candle. Spot the cross. Tell me when everyone kneels. Kneel with me. Pass me the hymnal. A small task pulls a wandering mind back without a single "shhh."

Let them follow along with something made for them. A guided book that walks a child through each part of the Mass gives little hands something holy to do and slowly builds the why underneath the what. I’ve create a project for this purpose - that I use with my son to follow along with the mass. It’s a printable - so we can print it again and again if we forget it in the pew (which we have) or if my son is a little extra rough with his book (which has also happened). We also bring along a few quiet fidgets for my son to get a bit of ‘deep pressure’ to help him regulate (a must for his sensory processing disorder).

And let them move a little. Standing on the kneeler to see, walking to the back, even a trip to the narthex (or cry room, if you hae one) — none of that is failure. The cry room is not the penalty box. It's just another room where you are still, faithfully, bringing your child to Mass. It wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t needed! And, you’ll find some understanding faces to commiserate with - as you likely won’t be the only one whose child (or who themselves) needed a break!

The week carries the hour

A single hour on Sunday does a lot, but it does more when the rest of the week quietly backs it up. Faith grows at home, in the ordinary middle of things — a saint story at bedtime, a short kids' podcast in the car, a quick "remember what we saw at Mass" while you're making lunch. None of it has to be a production. Small and steady is the whole game. This is the most important thing I’ve learned in my journey.

One last thing, for the hard weeks

There will be Sundays you leave sweaty and frustrated and certain everyone was watching. I’ve left with tears more times than I can count (and I’ve seen countless other mothers do the same). Those Sundays count too. You are not behind. You are not failing because your child is loud. The toddler years are a season, not a verdict, and the slow work you're doing — showing up, again and again, with small ones who can barely sit still — is exactly how little Saints are made. Come back next week. Bring them again. That faithfulness is the thing they'll remember, long after they forget any single homily.