An Unfortunate Impulse...

We were driving up the highway a few days ago when one of the kids asked about sarcasm. I can't remember how the conversation started. Who knows how these things start. The question was put to me. "Dad, what's sarcasm?"

At this point, a wiser man than I would see where this was headed and end things before they got out of hand. Me? I have this delusion that when a child asks a question it is because of a genuine deficiency of knowledge and it is my job to supply it. Oh yes, I think, I can answer that for you my son. Behold, I have the very nugget of understanding you've been seeking. Be comforted by the abundance of my accumulated factoids.
This impulse to awe the masses goes way back. I remember taking rides in the car as a child and trying to bait my sister into asking me questions so I could have the pleasure of answering her.

So, when one of the kids asks a question, there's this impulse that drives me to answer. It's like a force of nature, a pontification instinct. "Sarcasm," I said, "is when you say one thing, but mean another. You use it for emphasis."

Bear in mind, my children are all under ten. According to accepted psychological standards, they are incapable of anything but concrete thought:

"Cognitive development refers to the development of the ability to think and reason. Children (6 to 12 years old) develop the ability to think in concrete ways (concrete operations) such as how to combine (addition), separate (subtract or divide), order (alphabetize and sort), and transform (change things such as 5 pennies = 1 nickel) objects and actions. They are called concrete because they are performed in the presence of the objects and events being thought about."
-- From an article on the Lucile Packard Children's Hopital at Standford

In other words, children under twelve only understand things they can see, touch, hear, taste or feel. They are the ultimate existentialists. This is why they struggle to communicate emotions. They can only explain how being sad or angry makes their body feel. To say one thing and mean another is not difficult to understand, it's impossible.

Children tell lies, but they know they are lying and they mean to convey the exact information they give, even if it is untrue. My children couldn't grasp the idea that you might say a thing that is untrue and mean the thing that is.

So I began to explain. In my defense, my wife helped with this part.

"If I go to the refridgerator and bring mommy back a Diet Pepsi, and she says, 'Thanks, I love Diet Pepsi.' Does she really love Diet Pepsi?" (imagine me investing exaggerated contempt into the phrase)

The children, who know we prefer 'the red can' as they call Coke to all others, answer "No, she doesn't like Diet Pepsi."

"So, why did she say that?"

"Because she doesn't want to hurt your feelings."
"Because she might like it she's never tried it."
"Because it's what you got her and if she doesn't like it she can get her own."

Concrete answers. It never even occurs to them that mommy was insincere in her statement. Never. The rapid fire answers were all based on the firm conclusion that she said exactly what she meant to say.

Just as I'm about to launch into another example and attempt to explain this abstract concept, my wife looks at me. She's out. I can tell by the look in her eyes. She's not going any further with this. Why, I think? We can explain this. We're smart. We can break it down for them.

Then the epiphany strikes me as well.

I am teaching my children to be sarcastic. I have a five-second horror show in my head of the sharp-tongued teenagers these kids will grow up to be. They are quite articulate now. Another five or ten years and straight answers will be a thing of the past. WHAT AM I DOING?!?

"Dad...?" they ask. They are waiting for me to re-engage. I stifle the pontification response. I suppress the teaching reaction.

"Let's talk about something else." Mom quickly supplies a new topic and we're off again, swerving away from the verbal doom I had steered us toward. Maybe I've learned my lesson. Maybe. I'm morbidly curious what it will be like when they do grasp this unattractive concept. They could all become brilliant satirists. More likely they will simply lampoon my every attempt to teach them anything after the age of fourteen.

But hey, that's life for a parent, right?

Naptime

     “That’s my stick!”

     “No it isn’t!”

     “Yes it is!”

     “You’re stick is over there!”

     “No it’s not!”

     “Yes it is!”

     Abel made a grab for the stick in his brother’s hand. He was rewarded with a hard stroke across his ear. His shriek of pain and anger filled the little cave. It crashed off every hard surface and shattered the last of his mother’s patience.

     “That’s it!” She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes. Some of the scream went out of her voice. “That is it! You two have done nothing but argue all morning—Cain!”

     She pierced the boy with her glare.

     “Put the stick down. Now.”

     The thing clattered to the floor.

     Eve seized each of the boys by an arm and marched them deep into the warm interior of the cave. She stopped at a pile of blankets and animal skins heaped at the back.

     She settled them on the pile, arranging them where they couldn’t touch each other. She looked down upon them and uttered words that would ring throughout history in the mouths of exhausted mothers everywhere.

     “It’s nap time.”

---

     I don’t know whether Eve really invented naptime or not. I do know she had two boys and I doubt that famous incident that ended with Abel dead was their first argument. At some point, it had to occur to her that a break in the middle of the day might be a good idea. Kids get tired.

     When I was in Kindergarten, they still made us take naps after lunch recess. I’m not sure if they still do or not. They should. My own kids have to take a break after lunch. I encourage those who can sleep to do so, although they all maintain that their not tired. Still, the four-year-old tends to fall asleep more days than not. Even the eight-year-old crashes sometimes when he was up late the night before or it has been a big morning.

     I wouldn’t mind a nap midday myself, although that’s a more unattainable dream than publishing a novel at this point. Gotta have priorities. I would never sleep if I didn’t have to, but when I’m tired my body can be quite insistent.

     Still, I think I will keep naptime an institution in my home until the kids are grown and leave. Everyone needs a little quiet time during the day, a time they are guaranteed some peace uninterrupted. Even a teenager’s life (especially a teenager’s life) is full of hectic activity and an hour to stop everything and read a book could mean a lot.

     We are very busy at our house and people ask how we handle four kids and the challenges of homeschooling. The truth is, putting the kids down for a nap is as much for us as for them. That is our chance to talk, to rest, to get ready for the rest of the day. It is an island of peace in a sea of chaos. If Eve did pioneer the childhood siesta then I applaud her. Many thanks O mother of us all.

Seriously!? Like a little child?

And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.      --Jesus of Nazareth circa 30AD

"Wait, what? I have to become like a child? But children are needy and selfish. Why do you want me to be like them? Adults are smarter. We know things. We can do things. We're autonomous. Give me a job and I can get it done. You don't have to micromanage me. I know you're busy. Just between us adults, those kids aren't exactly the best at doing a job, you know. There's a lot they miss. It's a big world. You need big people to take care of it."

"Yes, I heard what you said about being like a child but..."

"yes, but..."

"no, I don't really understand it."

"Yes I usually do understand things pretty quickly... "

"What do I think it means?... I don't know. I guess..."

"sorry, you're right, no guessing...um...kids have lots of faith, right? My kids take everything I say at face value. They really don't do subtle. I crack a joke, you know something witty and sarcastic--"

"Yeah, faith. They just sort of trust. It's genuine, too. Adults always hold something back when they trust, but kids will put it all out there."

"What else? Uh, I gue--  I mean, I think kids are preceptive. They see things as they really are, not as they want them to be or as someone else has told them. If what they're told doesn't match with what they see, there will be questions. Lots of questions."

"Thank you."

"What else? Man, I don't know. They love real purely. They tell the truth, they like to cuddle, they still know they need their Daddy most of the time, they..."

"What do you mean you think I'm getting it? What am I getting?"

"You? I need to love you like that? Trust you like that? You want my questions and my childish, not to be deceived faith, huh. But..."

"No but's. Fair enough."

"Well...love me back, please. I need you, too."

He said what...!?

We were driving around this morning when a familiar mini-van started tailing us. We pulled over and stopped to visit with Grandma and Grandpa for a minute. My youngest son just recieved an RC truck from them as a gift and so Grandma asked, 'How's the truck?'

'It's an apple.' He said, holding out the fruit he was chomping on.

He wasn't the least confused.

I love to watch my kids use language, to interact with other people. They can articulate their thoughts and feelings like only children can.

Too bad it takes them another ten years before they learn to think before they speak. Later, we went out to eat. For a long time I've jokes that teryaki chicken looks like a rat on a stick. My wife shared this joke with the kids while I was supervising a bathroom run.

So, my oldest son decides to check the truth of this with the waitress at the top of his considerable lungs. Just so everyone knows, the fine people of the Chinese Buffet don't seem to appreciate this kind of inquery.

So what's the deal? Do we, as parents, do this? Do we speak without thinking? Do we mispeak and overstep? I'm pretty sure we do. And they are as innocent as we are, which is to say, most of the time we don't mean to offend.

But ignorance is no excuse and so we will continue to be vigilant. Maybe someday they will all learn to watch what they say and think of manners as more than something other people have. As for me, well, every once in a while I open my mouth and the stupid just falls out. Ask my wife. Good thing fogiveness is divine.

Busted...

It's friday night. Finally, all the kids are in bed. You look at the misses and she looks back. You realize you are both thinking the same thing. You want it, she wants it. You go for it.

And it is good!

Suddenly, you hear the patter of feet. You know you should've taken this to the bedroom and closed the door. What were you thinking? Right here in the couch!? You look, deer-in-the-headlights at the innocent four year old child in the hallway. Should you lie? Try to explain?

Before you can say anything she says it for you. Oh yes, she knows what your up to.

"You guys are eatin' ice cream!"

You've been busted.



(What did you think was going on? Come on man, you got kids!)