Parenting Habits Italians Think Are Weird
How Raising Our Daughter in Italy Is Anything But Traditional
One of the things you learn quickly when living abroad is that every little habit you have, whether intentional or not, is up for public scrutiny. And when you’re parenting, well, every decision becomes a social experiment.
We’ve had more than one curious onlooker in our little Italian town raise an eyebrow at the things we do with our daughter—things that, in many ways, feel perfectly normal to us but are utterly mysterious to the locals.
A quick caveat: I can’t claim that all these “odd” behaviors are strictly American. My husband and I both grew up in multicultural households—Asian influences, European flavors, and a few years in the Czech Republic under our belts. So, when we parent, we aren’t just doing things “American-style”—we’re blending cultures in ways that don’t always make sense to Italians. Here’s a look at some of the most “weird” parenting choices we’ve made that Italians just can’t wrap their heads around.
1. Cold Air? Bring It On.
If you’ve spent any time in Italy, especially in smaller towns or in the mountains, you’ve likely heard the term colpo d’aria—a fear of cold air that supposedly can make you sick or, in extreme cases, kill you.
In my town, people tend to stay indoors when the weather’s chilly, and parents go into full lockdown mode when it’s cold or rainy outside. So, naturally, we became the family who has no qualms about bundling up our daughter and sending her outside in temperatures that have locals doing double-takes.
To us, the idea that a bit of cold air is dangerous is… well, a bit weird. We like to embrace the no bad weather, just bad clothing mentality. Our daughter is out there rain or shine, stomping through puddles, building snowmen, and getting a proper dose of fresh air. Call us rebels, but I swear, some kids around here haven’t seen daylight in months because they’re cooped up inside until it’s warm enough for nonnas to take them out.
2. Outdoor Naps (Yes, Really)
This one always gets the biggest reactions. When our daughter was a newborn, we did something that would probably horrify most Italians (and Americans): we let her nap outside in her stroller.
If you’re familiar with Nordic traditions, you know this isn’t some weird, borderline-negligent parenting stunt. We initially adopted this practice in the Czech Republic, where it’s also common, with the guidance of our pediatrician. Parents in countries like Sweden, Norway, and Finland often place their babies in strollers, sometimes right into the snow, to take naps in the crisp air. And they swear by it for building up a baby’s immune system. DON’T WORRY PEOPLE, the babies are clearly well-dressed in wool clothing and duck feather blankets so cozy that even you’d fall asleep.
We initially adopted this tradition in the Czech Republic, where it’s also normal to let babies nap outdoors, with the guidance of our pediatrician there. He even told us to wait just two weeks after our daughter’s birth before starting outdoor naps.
Once we bought a house in Italy, we brought the tradition here with us. People couldn’t believe we were putting her outside when it was below freezing, but here’s the thing: she slept like a champion. Hours of uninterrupted, peaceful sleep. Every parent’s dream, right? The stroller was covered, keeping out any rain or snow, and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from her when we’d bring her back in. It wasn’t reckless; it was a sleep strategy.
3. The Nap Schedule: A Foreign Concept
Italian parenting culture tends to be much more “go with the flow” compared to our more structured approach, which was influenced by many American newborn tips. When we first became parents, we were hardcore about our daughter’s nap schedule. It was crucial in the early years—for both her and us. We followed it with the precision of a military operation: no one was allowed to interrupt nap time.
Italian parents, however, are more likely to let their little ones sleep wherever the day takes them. Got errands? No problem—sleep in my arms. At a friend’s house for dinner? Sure, go ahead and nap on their couch. While the flexibility of this sounds nice, we struggled a bit with it in the beginning. For us, sticking to a routine just felt… easier. In time, we relaxed more, but I’ll always remember the odd looks we got when we’d rush home to put our daughter into a bed at exactly the right time.
4. Falling Down? No Big Deal.
Italians are incredibly attentive when it comes to their toddlers. If they’re on the playground, they’ll be under constant watch, often with a grandparent standing by, ensuring the little one doesn’t trip or take a tumble. And while we do keep an eye on our daughter, we’re not hovering.
We’ve always believed that learning balance and coordination comes from figuring out how to pick yourself up after a fall—and you can’t do that if you’re constantly kept from the ground.
So, when our daughter climbs something higher than the average playground slide, we’ve often had strangers express concern. “Are you sure she can do that?” they’ll ask, but we just smile and watch as she conquers another challenge. Worst-case scenario? She stumbles, learns from it, and gets right back up.
5. Manual Labor as Playtime
In Italy, there’s a strong cultural belief that children should be protected from anything that’s too “hard.” They shouldn’t have to work or do manual labor. They’re meant to play, play, and play some more. But for us, we believe that work can be fun, and so we let our daughter help with tasks like raking leaves, shoveling gravel, and building whatever project dad is working on. She feels proud, and we feel connected.
Locals, however, are often surprised by how much our daughter enjoys these “adult” activities. They see it as a form of labor, not play. But for us, this is the perfect way to bond and teach her valuable life skills. Plus, if we don’t start showing her the value of hard work, who will?
6. Pasta, Yes. Every Day? Not So Much.
In our little corner of Italy, pasta is everything. And while we do eat it regularly (who doesn’t?), we aren’t the type to serve it at every single meal. And certainly not at every single dinner. Our daughter eats pasta every day at school, but when it comes to family meals, we love to mix it up with dishes from our own cultural backgrounds.
Thanks to our Asian heritage, we cook a lot of bold, flavorful dishes at home. Panang curry, lemongrass chicken, kimchi—you name it. I’m terrified to share these dishes with my Italian neighbors, though. They would probably wonder if we were secretly trying to turn our daughter into a food rebel. But hey, she loves it, and I love the idea of her growing up with a palate as diverse as her parents.
So, while our choices might raise a few eyebrows here, they’re a reflection of our journey through different cultures, our parenting philosophy, and the desire to give our daughter a rich, diverse upbringing. Of course, one of the major challenges we’re aware of in raising her in Italy is the lack of diversity, which we’ll dive into in more detail another time.
But despite that, the beauty of living abroad is that we’re free to carve out our own path and embrace what works for us—even if it’s totally “weird” by local standards.
What do you think? Are there any parenting habits you’ve adopted while living abroad that make people raise an eyebrow? Don’t be shy—I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Believe me, the paralysing fear of “colpi d’aria” is not limited to small towns, it’s rampant in the big cities, too!
I'm late to the party, but yes, I'm a 35 years old from Milan and I second everything that's written in the article and in the comments! These quirks aren't limited to Southern Italy, nor small towns. I've always been looked at as the odd one because I spend time outside when it's cold without covering up excessively and because I don't eat pasta everyday. Random acquaitances, especially middle aged, asking me how do I manage not catch a cold and what the hell else do I eat have been a constant through my life, though the second is slowly receding with the rise of foreign cousines, at least in my area.