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?

An Overlooked Genre

I love books. I love long books and short books, I love scary books and sweet books, I love fiction books and fact books, I love funny books and action books and thoughtful books. This  has been true as long as I've been able to read. As a kid I could wear out a Dr. Seuss book in no time.

For a while, as I grew up, I forgot about children's books. I went on a sci-fi fling followed by a fantasy binge. I took a short break to get married and have kids and now I'm back to heavy reading. But with the advent of children has come a resurgence in my love for childish books.

I don't think I ever stopped liking them, I just stopped reading them. According to a recent article by the New York Times, this is exactly what is happening to kids across the country now. As parents feel the pressure to prepare their kids for rigorous school standards (see that pesky institutional school ruining another good thing?) they are pushing their early elementary kids out of picture books and into chapter books. Never mind that the text is equivalent or below the picture book's level. It doesn't have pictures so it must be bigger. Right?

Wrong. C.S. Lewis said, "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." In other words, any book that a child is expected to enjoy should be enjoyable for an adult. I have found this to be true. For one example, I have already shared Axe Cop, the webcomic written by a six-year-old. This work comes directly from a child's mind, yet it is captivating readers of all ages. Also, in my own case, I have found that I pick out the books I like, when I go to the library. The kids have their favorites, but some how one or two of my own favorites end up in the stack.

Or they used to. When I read the article I was cut to the heart because even I have begun to follow this pattern. My oldest is only nine. My youngest is four and it would be perfectly ok for her to be read picture books daily. Yet, as I've gotten more preoccupied with doing a good job homeschooling, I've pushed higher-level books on the kids. Some of it is an impatience to share what I love, but some of it is the stereotype that books with pictures are for babies.

The truth is there are many books released in over sized format with lush illustrations that contain fifth-grade level text or higher. They discuss themes, explain concepts and inform worldviews that adults are still learning about.

But even with all that aside, children's picture books are fun. They are witty and delightful and I have never failed to laugh at a well made one. My favorites include the Pigeon books by Mo Willems, just about anything by Jon Scieszka, and David Shannon. I still enjoy the 'classics' by Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein.

The idea that children's books are beneath anyone is ridiculous. We would be wise to stop trying to outgrow childhood, but rather carry what is good about it with us to keep us joyful and humble. One final quote from C.S. Lewis and I let it go.

"Those of us who are blamed when old for reading childish books were blamed when children for reading books too old for us. No reader worth his salt trots along in obedience to a time-table."

Using the Princesses.

A little girl is cute. She looks like a living doll romping around in skirts and ponytails. One moment she is mimicking the tenderness of a mother with a baby doll in her arms. The next minute, she is upbraiding the dog for its considerable sins.

My own daughter is all too aware of the power of her cuteness. She has always been able to land herself in the lap or on the hip of a teacher. For a child of one or two years, this isn’t that big of a deal. She passed the four year mark many months ago and she still has the knack of insinuating herself into places no four-year-old should be able to go. This is partly because she is quite petite for her age, but it has more to do with the fact that she sees herself as irresistible. After all, who wouldn’t want to hold her and give her everything she asks for?

From the beginning, we have tried to keep our daughter from seeing herself as only a pretty thing. We have constantly found ways to compliment her that are not based on her appearance, but on her character. Yet, she still cannot pass a mirror without being captivated and if you don’t notice what she is wearing today she will surely bring to your attention.

Like many girls in this modern age of marketing, my daughter is obsessed with the Disney Princesses. She sleeps beneath them at night. She wears their clothes. She listens to their music. She begs to watch their movies. She wants to be like them. In her four-year-old heart, she is one of them. These are her heroes.

We have resisted this as much as we can. My wife wasn’t that kind of girl when she was little. It is hard for us to understand. Yet our own girl is exactly the kind. She loves pink and wants to be pretty all day long. How do you fight something that is so ingrained? She wants to be a princess. Of course she’s obsessed with clothes and expects to be waited on hand and foot. All she needs is a ball gown and a prince and she’ll be set for life. But, is it possible there are other lessons to be gleaned from these iconic Disney debutants?

My wife thought of it. Enlist the princesses. Recruit them to our cause. In one of those teachable moments we read about in books, she began to discuss some of the things she had noticed about the princesses with our daughter. Cinderella was kind to others and a very hard worker (that front hall blings in every scene). Belle is a big reader who makes good use of the library. Snow White was fair and took care of others. Pocahontas respected nature. Ariel saved a drowning man. Mulan was brave. (Yes, I know Mulan is not a princess, but she is female lead in a Disney animated film, therefore she qualifies in my daughter’s eyes.)

The more we talked about it the more we could draw out the virtues we wanted to teach from these heavily marketed hussies. I don’t think there is much we can do to keep my daughter from being vain. Even now, if you ask her about her modesty, she will go through her pockets, look behind her and then throw up her hands and say she hasn’t got any. She doesn’t even know the meaning of the word. Time will heal this, thought, and there really isn’t anything wrong with being pretty, which she is. But, maybe we can teach her to be a whole lot more. After all, she’s not afraid to climb a tree or brawl like an animal with her brothers. I think in her heart she’s really a warrior princess.

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."

No more naked toys...

 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth...
Then God said, "Let us make man in our image..."

Sunday morning, my wife decided to cook up some new duds for Boomer, my  youngest son's stuffed bear. He was playing outside with the rest of the kiddos when she presented the bear, who normally turns out in army fatigues, in a checked button-down and blue jeans. The boy loved it. He grabbed Boomer and showed him off to his siblings with total delight. The next thing she knew, my wife was sitting behind the sewing machine with a queue of stuffed animals to dress.

As I watched the kids, waiting for their chance to receive some custom clothes, I got this idea of how we are like God. We imitate him without even trying. These kids, as soon as they saw the possibility, wanted their toys covered and cared for. I've seen the tenderness they use in putting a toy to bed and the anguish of losing one. Kids really will leave the ninety-nine action figures and seek out the lost one.

Being made in God's image has more to do with our actions and our character than it does the arrangement of our arms and legs. A kid's ego and desire can run wild, making him rude, insensitive, or selfish. But, his spirit is still innocent Not that he is sinless but he is yet ignorant of most of his sin. In that innocence, kids reveal the character of God without meaning to. All children are naturally creative. They care for and defend 'their own'. They can be eerie in their intuitions and are not deceived by mere social conventions. If a kid sees a grown-up acting bad, they say so. They don't make an excuse or try to explain why it was right in that circumstance. (Usually those tactics are saved for themselves when they've been acting bad.)

So, the simple act of asking for clothes for their dolls, of asking for what they need from the one who can provide it, inspires me this week. I hope I can be so upfront with God in asking for what I need.

So, who do you call...?

I have this theory. I've discussed it with a few people and I think I have a good point, but not everyone may agree with me. Still, hear me out.

Young children can be trained with the same techniques as dogs.

The best way to train a dog is with positive reinforcement, lots of praise, lots of treats, and above all, clear and simple directions. Dogs respond to consistency and routine. Sound familiar? That's because many child-rearing books teach the same techniques. Young children are concrete thinkers. That means that if a thing does not directly affect them (and probably in a physical way) then it is mostly meaningless to them.


I've read that even the smartest of dogs has the mentality of human toddler. They are pleasers that seek affection and are clever and persistent in the reaching of goals. Likewise, children are scary in their ability to devise plans to get what they want but ultimately they desire to be loved and approved of.

We treat kids to privileges when they behave and enforce punishments when they don't. When they don't understand what's expected of them they get nervous and act out. Changes in routine make them uncertain. The more you think about it t he more you'll see. Maybe a good dog training manual out to sit on the shelf next to Sal Severe and Kevin Leman. I recommend The Loved Dog by Tamar Geller. Part of the book is her personal story and why she likes dogs so much. It might be a really good story. I don't know. I skipped to the training part. Geller believes in non-aggressive training that build dogs up rather than bullying them into behavior. Good for dogs and kids if you ask me.

So, now you just have one question you have to answer. If you think I'm way off base and have no business rearing children with this kind of whacko philosophy, who do you call?

DCFS or PETA?

I don't get it...

humor - n. wit, a message whose ingenuity or verbal skill or incongruity has the power to evoke laughter

How many psychologists
does it take to change
a light bulb?

One, but it has to really
want to change.

Where, exactly, did this whole sense-of-humor thing come from? Is it something that's absolute or is it strictly objective? It seems to be the latter. At least as far as I can tell with my kids. My wife and I tell jokes and make witty banter throughout the day. (Perhaps we laugh only to keep from crying?) Anyway, the kids have quickly discovered that humor is well received and are constantly trying to participate as well.

Now here's the problem, at least from my perspective. While my own wit goes sailing over their heads like a weather balloon they return fire with a volley of knock-knock jokes that leave me waiting for the punchline. And I look like the goon when I don't laugh at the right time.


Don't get me wrong, I love a good knock-knock joke.

'Knock knock.'
'Who's there?'
'Interrupting cow.'
'Interrupting c-'
'Moo.'

It's funny, right? What I struggle with is jokes with a punchline like 'Flying-chicken vegetable-head.' I know, kids are learning, in this case they are learning the concept of a joke. They grasp the format, but they have a hard time understanding why one thing is funny and not another. We're working on improving the content so we get to more real laughing and less weak 'Ha-ha. That's a good one, son.'

The second issue is the vast chasm that exists between what a kid thinks is funny and what an adult with a more, uh, 'sophisticated' sense of humor thinks is funny. I'm reluctant to use that word, sophisticated, because I know fathers and sons have been sharing the working of Mel Brooks and The Three Stooges for generations now.  All the same, the subtly of satire or parody is lost on children who think in such concrete terms. To be fair, the comedy of bodily functions is mostly lost on me.

Perhaps it's possible to close this gap, to bridge the chasm and find common humor. After all, I'm a huge fan of animated movies including Shrek, Ice Age, Over the Hedge and more. Yet I'm not always sure we're laughing at the same things. I love Donkey's quick and wordy sarcasm while the kids seem to think the gross humor of an Ogre lifestyle is the height of comedy.

Whatever the solution, I encourage everyone to share laughter with your kids, help them learn the joy of finding humor in life's difficult situations. Teach them to look for irony. And for crying out loud, teach them so decent jokes so they don't get that confused deadpan at the jr. talent show.

If knowledge is power...

Why is it that kids (I'm not even talking teenagers) think their friends or cousins know more about everything than I do? I mean, I'm a pseudo-successful adult. I pay my bills, do my job. I read. I know things. But when I talk, I get this glassy-eyed stare that tortured POW's must use to avoid giving information. Or I get random information that has nothing to do with the conversation. (i.e. In a recent conversation about housebreaking the dog, I was informed about the authors of a dog training book the kid had read)

Anyway, my point is that, somehow a nine-year-old has more credibility in matters of life than I do. What's up with that? I've tried explaining that friends don't so much care whether they get someone else in trouble as long as they don't get in trouble themselves. Even after a stint in the corner this message falls on deaf ears. I've tried predicting the consequences for obviously foolish actions. They are still surprised when that tree branch breaks and they spill gracelessly to the earth.

In retrospect, I guess I didn't realize how wise my own parents were until I was an adult looking back. Turns out they were right pretty much all the time. Go figure. So, until my little wild ones grow up and have the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I'll just have to watch and laugh. And occasionally plaster their limbs with band-aids and antibiotic. God bless Neosporin.


By the way, guys, we still do it too. When was the last time your wife warned you something was a bad idea and it turned out she was right? Even though a friend of yours told you it would work. Yeah. I know.

The good thing is...

Children are a gift, God says. The 127th psalm goes so far as to call a passle of yard-apes a 'full quiver'. As in that bag that hangs on Legolas's back where he keeps his arrows. I have to agree, like arrows, children dangerous when if played with incautiously. And, they have a point. (Children, I mean. Not the Psalmist. Well, he had a point too. But...nevermind....)

The point of children is manifold. Childhood is a transition from birth to adulthood. No mother I know woud ever agree to give birth to an adult-sized baby. Also, children are especially pliable and open to learning in ways that adults are not. They absorb daily what they need to become healthy, well-adjusted adults. Hopefully.

But kids provide one valuable service that, recognized or not, God no doubt intended. They give us one of the most complete pictures we have of out relationship with Him. Children rival the Bible itself in teaching us about God. And, I'm not just talking about those times when we look to heaven in utter frustration and pray the five or six words we can remember of that Serenity prayer before we're interrupted. Again.

Children are born sinful, but ingnorant of it. No one thinks a baby is selfish or demanding for it's behavior. But a baby cannot have a real friendship either. It has to grow, to mature. Children behave outwardly exactly how we behave inwardly. As Christians, we are trying to learn a better way, but it is God who is teaching us. As kids grow, they pass through stages of concrete thought into the abstract We see how we are being lifted up out a world made only of what we can see and touch into spiritual world that's just as real with rules and consequences of its own.

Pay attention. This metaphor applies to every part of your relationship with God. What do you want for your children? How do you want them to talk to you? How comfortable should they feel at home, the home you provide for them? What do you fear for them? Hope for them?

Smart parents teach their kids cool stuff. Wise parents learn cool stuff from their kids.

Tiger pits and self-control...

"I understand that kids will be kids but you can't just let them get away with it."
--Anonymous

The person who said this was frustrated and actually mispoke what they were trying say, but the quote was so perfect. It appealed to me. On the surface, it seems harsh and unforgiving. After all, we've been indoctrinated by decades of Disney Family Movies to respond to a child's hijinks with a shrug and a laugh. 'Oh that Johnny, what a prankster. Why just the other day he trapped the mail man in a Burmese Tiger Pit.' Other parents nod, appreciating the gift that Johnny must be to his parents.

That's stupid. Kids are dangerous and ill-suited to making their own decisions. Would a child actually dig a Burmese Tiger Pit to trap a Federal employee? Of course! Especially if he saw it on TV! All he lacks is stature, strength and commitment. And, don't bank on any kid's attention span to save you. They may not be able to attend to a three-second warning about digging holes in the yard, but they can spend hours plotting some diabolical shenanigan when you're not around.

The chaos of children is forgivable, strictly because they are children. They sin in ignorance. After all, they didn't know it was wrong to capture a mail man and they forgot (sometimes they really do!) you told them not to dig in the yard. But they will not be little forever. Kids that act like kids are called rowdy or a handful. Adults that act like kids are called psychopaths.

But, they can learn. That's what kids do best. They learn at an almost instant rate and to a near permanent degree. Ask anyone who has accidently cursed in front of a toddler. They can learn self-control, empathy, virtue. They learn them from us, just like the colorful adjectives and inappropriate song lyrics we wish they hadn't heard. So while it is okay for kids to be kids, we can forgive them, we must not let them get away with it. We are not raising children. We are raising adults from birth. By all means, teach them to act like one. That's what we do isn't it? Act like adults?

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!)

Children and the expression of thought...

laundry piles high
noise like flood water drowns all
child fills all life up

--- I decided to open with a haiku because, who doesn't love haikus, right? Seventeen syllables and you don't even have to make 'em rhyme. I realized it's been like a long long time since I wrote anything here and maybe my idea of putting out a witty and meaningful commentary on a weekly basis was a little ambitious.

Children are a two-fold in everything. You get baby coos and gahs and baby poop. You get inspired insights into life from their perspective and fart jokes. You get heaps of material for writing from their countless antics and your so exhausted by them you can't quite couple two coherent sentances together.

Hence, my obsession with coffee.

So this week I will do my best to be a careful observer and try to retaion some of what I see and learn. I want to share my experiences as a father and be able to express it in something more substantial than a haiku. So for now, happy parentin'. And may God go with you. Yer gonna need it.

Will work for Bubble-Yum...

We started a vegetable garden this week. On the surface, this seemed like a brilliant idea. Homeschool family and all, growing vegetables all summer is a great lesson on where food comes from, how to take care of a garden, etc. Besides, kids love to dig, at least, my kids do, and there's lots of digging in gardens.

Except, that kids are actually really hard workers, surprising but true, and if you give them a job they enjoy, they will do it day and night forvever and ever amen. My backyard is starting to look like a shelled out battlefield and mom and I have to be vigilant about keeping the digging away from the already planted parts of the garden.

But, to harness that drive, that power...who knows what you could accomplish. The trick is making it fun. For instance, our kids wanted to play with their toy shovels, so mom set them in garden beds and in no time they had the soil tilled up. I think I'll invent a game where ninjas must wash and wax the whole car to defeat evil. Hmm. Needs work.

Anyway, the point is, that kid's have limitless energy for playing, and they don't mind pushing themselves. They're natural workers, just like they're natural learners and natural problem-solvers. You don't have to ask them to do it, you just show them how. Who knows what a kid can accomplish if he's given a little encouragement and the right tools? Oh, and the right currency. For some reason, a pack of gum is like gold bullion in the kid economy. So turn 'em loose on something and see what they can do.