Information Seeking

Someone once told be about a comic - I probably don’t have it exactly right, but here is the main idea (I wish I had the pictures to go with it):

A man and his son are in the car. 

From the backseat the son asks, “Dad, why are leaves green?” 

The dad launches into an explanation about chlorophyl, pigments, photosynthesis.

The boy responds with, “Dad, are you talking to me?” 

I often think of this comic when my kids ask me questions and I try to figure out if and how to answer them. Most of the time, I’m not convinced my kids are really seeking information, at least not when they are under five years old. If they are seeking information, it is not the adult kind - factual and complex - that best meets their inquiry.

To elaborate…

The ‘why?’ stage. Most children go through this stage. It is cute and amusing at first, then a bit tiresome, then relentless. In my experience, my answers are never satisfactory, they only lead to the next ‘why’, which can quickly turn into an empty why-because back and forth. It seems to me that this stage isn’t about information, but rather about figuring out the dynamic between the adult and the child: Does my mom really know everything? Does she start talking to me every time I ask ‘why’ ? How many ‘whys’ do I have to ask until she finally says “I don’t know!”? I often get the impression that the child is more interested in the interaction than the answer. And at some point, responding to everything with ‘why’ may become such a habit that the child says it without any interest in either the interaction or the answer — like when Katherine would absent-mindedly say ‘why’ without even looking up from what she was doing and wouldn’t even notice whether or not I responded. 

As children get a little older (though I’m still talking under five) their questions become a little more sophisticated, but even at this stage I don’t think the questions indicate a request for an answer, at least not my answer. Rather, I think it is a request to confirm what they think is the answer. I remember a specific exchange I had with Katherine (when she was about two) that made me evaluate what her questions were really about:

Katherine was gazing out the window and asked me, “Mom, where do the birds come from?” As I started organizing my response about how birds hatch from eggs, how eggs are laid from mother birds, why birds come from eggs, and the whole philosophical question of where the first bird came from, I suddenly wondered how on earth I would explain all of this to a two-year-old. Rather than figure it out, I opted not to answer and simply asked back, “Where do you think they come from?” Katherine promptly answered, “From under the fence. I think they come in under the fence from that yard over there.” 

She didn’t actually want me to answer, and she certainly wasn’t asking for the information I was about to give her! She already had the answer worked out and it was as if her question was really asking,  “Do you agree with me?” If I had answered with information that was relevant to me, I would have missed her point, and her explanation, completely. 

Of course there are times when Katherine or Clara do have a genuine question about something. For example, Clara asked me why leaves change color in the fall, and I think in this case she did want my answer. But if I were to give her my answer, it wouldn’t be anything like the creative, imaginative one she could come up with on her own. I’m constrained by knowledge, she is not. Soon enough her logic and reasoning skills will kick in* and providing her with factual answers will be appropriate. But for now I much rather my two-year-old have fun with her imagination than (try to) understand the real reason why a leaf changes color. 

So I generally don’t answer my kids’ questions. Instead I respond with “Hmm, I wonder” or “What do you think?” More often than not I get a very detailed, well-developed answer that gives me a glimpse of how their young minds work.  

*Those logic and reasoning skills do kick in. Katherine (5 1/2) now questions whether eating carrots really does make her eyes sparkle. A clear indication that she is ready for real answers to her questions. 

Tooth Fairy

The tooth fairy is coming for Katherine’s second lost tooth tonight… She will probably leave this poem and a gem. 

This night it is a special night
As fairies dance upon the roof.
All the fairies must alight,
For Katherine just lost a tooth!

The Fairy Queen gives her commands-
Twelve bright fairies must join hands
Then together in a circle stands
To guard Katherine while she sleeps.

The Tooth Fairy into the circle leaps
The hidden tooth she takes
Ah, but has far to go
Before Katherine awakes.

Three times around the world she flies
Over valleys deep and mountains high;
Skirts the storm clouds thick with thunder,
Wings over waves all wild with wonder.

Deep within their earthly homes
Finally she finds the gnomes,
Who upon the tooth must work
Never once their duty shirk.

Some are hammering, hammering, hammering,
Some the bellows blow
Others sweat at the sweltering forge
And then cry out, “Heigh Ho!”

The tooth’s been turned to a shining stone,
A glimmering, glowing gem
The tooth Fairy takes the gnomes’ good gift,
And curtsies to all of them.
Before the sun’s first rays are shown,
She returns to Katherine’s bed,
And then - - - away she’s flown!

Thank you, Emily, for sharing this wonderful tradition.

 

Curative Story: Helping out

Once upon a time there was a bird called Anna bird. She lived in a tree with her mama bird, daddy bird, and big sister, Millie bird. Anna bird loved to fly among the trees. Early one morning she was flying around a tree when she saw Mrs. Robins fluttering around her nest. “Tweet tweet,” Anna bird called to Mrs. Robins, landing on a branch.

Mrs. Robins was always very kind, but today she looked distracted and very busy. “Oh, good morning Anna. I am very busy today. I have many things to do and I don’t know how I will get everything done.” “What is on your list?” asked Anna, always curious about what other birds were doing. “Well,” said Mrs. Robins, “I need to tidy up the nest, hunt for some fresh worms before the puddles dry up, and find Squirrel Nutkin to ask him to carry some large nut shells up to my nest for me. But I can’t leave my eggs alone in the nest.” Anna bird thought that was a lot of work to do in one morning. She peered into Mrs. Robins’ nest. Sure enough the twigs and grasses were all over the floor and three little eggs were tucked in the corner. “Can I help you?” Anna bird asked. “Oh, Anna bird, that would be wonderful.” “Maybe I can tidy up the nest and keep an eye on your eggs while you run your errands,” said Anna bird. “Yes,” said Mrs. Robins, “that would be very helpful.”

So Anna bird tidied up the grasses and twigs and kept an eye on the eggs while Mrs. Robins hunted for fresh worms and talked to Squirrel Nutkin about the nut shells. When Mrs. Robins came back, her nest was all tidy and her eggs were safe. “Thank you for helping, Anna,” she said with a big smile as she sat down comfortably on her eggs to warm them. The she gave Anna bird a big, juicy worm, fresh from a puddle, to take home to share with her sister, Millie bird.

As Anna bird flew home carrying her big juicy worm, she thought about the work she had done that morning and felt happy. Mrs. Robins did not seem distracted or busy anymore. When she arrived home, she showed Millie bird the worm, and while they shared their special treat, Anna bird told Millie bird all about helping out Mrs. Robins. “Maybe we can go help her together tomorrow morning,” suggested Millie bird, who also wanted to help out. “Yes,” said Anna bird, “that is a good idea.”

Nesting blocks (Toy)

Our dear friend Emily first introduced us to these nesting bowls.

 

Then she gave Katherine the nesting wave, and Aunt K gave the girls the nesting flower.

 These toys are wonderful and they are always being used for something. 

 

Katherine and Clara working hard on a… bus stop?

 

Yes, it is a bus stop for little people. Obviously.

 

And here Clara is making me a chai latte.

The possibilities are endless.

Good jobbing

I’ve been planning a post on “good jobbing” for a while now, but then I came across this article, by Alfie Kohn, who says it all much better than I ever could. Plus he cites actual research to back it up. So I’ll just add in a few of my own comments.

I am amazed at the frequency with which people “Good job!” kids. It’s not just parents doing it, it’s nannies, parents’ friends, older kids (to younger kids), even strangers. I’ve had my kids good jobbed by random people who pass us on the sidewalk and apparently think Katherine and Clara are really good at walking. 

Why do people feel the need to praise kids for doing what they are wired to do? Walking, throwing a ball, going down a slide, eating dinner… these are not accomplishments, let alone accomplishments worthy of praise. These are activities kids just do.

In fact, I find “good jobbing” rather condescending. What if Dave came into the kitchen (or worse yet, called from the living room) “Good job, Karen!” as I was making dinner? It would be inappropriate, and I don’t think it is any less inappropriate to say it to a child who is going down a slide. But it has become a cultural habit, and I doubt people even think about the fact that most of the time, “Good job” is empty in content, condescending in message, and distracting to children who are just going about their play.

Please check out Alfie Kohn’s article… he discusses “good jobbing” in more depth and with more thoughtfulness than this mini-rant. Plus he talks about “praise junkies” (who doesn’t want to read about that?!) and offers alternative responses.

More on Chores

Earlier this week I wrote about Children and Chores. As I work towards including my children more in household chores, I’ve been thinking about how parents can set the expectation that everyone helps out in the home. It probably isn’t realistic for kids to always be compliant and cheerful about doing chores, but nagging and whining shouldn’t be the norm either. 

Over the past couple of years, I’ve received some good advice from teachers and parents about what kind of chores are appropriate, how to introduce new chores, and how to make these chores part of the daily routine. I thought I’d share their wisdom.

Ms. Christine advised us that birthdays are a good time to introduce new chores. Kids are excited about growing up and giving them the responsibility of a new chore is a nice way to acknowledge their change in age. When Katherine turned five she took on clearing her dinner plate. Of the few things we ask her to do chore-wise, this is the one she rarely fusses about. Maybe it has to do with how we introduced it?  I’m sure she’ll eventually catch on that a birthday chore is not exactly a birthday present, but for now we’ll take it!

There are the standard chores, like setting/clearing the table, taking out the garbage, and putting clean clothes away in drawers, but this year we’ve incorporated some more creative chores, most of which Katherine brought home from school:

  • Polishing, which is really a fancy word for dusting. In Katherine’s classroom they “polish” the toys every Friday.
  • Cobwebbing is another hit in Katherine’s classroom. Wrap a small towel around the end of a 4-5 foot long stick and run it along the ceiling and the wall corners to remove cobwebs.
  • Sweeping. Siblings can also enjoy fighting over who gets to sweep and who gets to hold the dustpan.
  • Washing windows using a spray bottle. I’m pretty sure kids will do anything if it involves a spray bottle.

My kids like doing all of these things… once in a while. When they feel like it. But I’m interested in how to make chores an automatic part of the daily/weekly routine.  People recommend a keeping a schedule: Monday is vacuum day, Tuesday is clean bathroom day, etc., but for me that is easier said than done. On nice days I’m more than willing to sacrifice a clean bathroom so we can spend more time outside, or if I’m in the mood to bake, I’m sure to choose chocolate over window washing!

Maybe I need a more official looking schedule. It is currently crayoned in on our breakfast schedule (which is failed attempt to bring more variety to breakfast… all mom wants to prepare anyone wants is cereal.)

Modeling the work you want your kids to do and/or working along side them is ideal. Clara is much more inclined to help straighten up if I am doing it too, and it is much nicer to work together than to nag over and over from across the room. 

Books can also help when introducing - or enforcing- chores. A favorite in our home is Ox-Cart Man, and I just started reading Little House in the Big Woods to Katherine. I think she is impressed with how Laura and Mary help Pa and Ma… Hopefully that will play in my favor.

Even though I know these are all good ideas that would help the children-chore situation in our home, some are hard to implement in reality. Having Katherine and Clara help isn’t the most efficient way to a clean house, and it is easier to shoo them out of the kitchen than to find ways for them to contribute. As far as making it part of the routine, I don’t always want to be tied to “polishing day,” and find it hard to stick to the schedule.

Tell me, what types of chores do your kids do? How do you implement chores in your home? What was it like in your home when you were a kid? I’d love to hear your suggestions…

Children and Chores

Spoiled Rotten, Why do kids rule to roost?, is a great article packed full of information, observations, and cultural comparisons. There are a lot of points made about parenting in general, and specifically about parenting in the U.S., but one in particular hit home: the typical American kid does not (willingly) help with household chores. Since reading the article, I have been listening to the requests I make of the kids, how many times I make a request, how often the request is met, and the mood and tone (i.e., joyful, fussy) it is met with. 

Katherine and Clara usually meet my requests, but I have been unpleasantly surprised by their mood and tone: some resistance, a lot of fussing and “I don’t want to”s, and even the dreaded, “I don’t have to.” Stepping back, it isn’t all that surprising. While I am pretty consistent about stating requests (Katherine, please brush your teeth and comb your hair.) rather than asking (Katherine, will you please brush your teeth and comb your hair?), I did notice that I frequently convey the message in my response that they are doing me a big favor by doing what I have asked:

“Oh thank you, Katherine!”

“That was really helpful, Clara, thank you!”

“Thank you for putting on your shoes!” 

I do believe in acknowledging a child’s hard work, but the tasks I thank my kids for doing are all standard, routine things, like putting on shoes, clearing their dinner plate, cleaning up the basket of spilled crayons. I don’t want to feel - and express - gratitude when they complete these tasks, I want them to just happen without comment or fanfare. If they feel they are doing me a big favor by clearing their plate, it’s no wonder they feel it is within their right to tell me, “I don’t have to.” 

But communicating excessive gratitude for simple, routine tasks is only one component of the problem. It also occurred to me that all I ask of Katherine and Clara are simple, routine tasks. I could and should be expecting a lot more from them. I’m not talking about loading them down with chores so I can sit and read blogs all day, as tempting as that may be. I am talking about giving them real responsibility that genuinely contributes to the functioning of our family. For example, it could be Katherine’s role to fill the water glasses every evening, and Clara’s role to fill each salad bowl with lettuce and vegetables that she has cut up. These tasks would be challenging for them, but more importantly, they are meaningful tasks that are necessary in order for the family to eat dinner. Katherine and Clara would probably accept these tasks as a prestigious responsibility, and hopefully this would be enough to quell the fussy, resistant, attitude.

Of course this all sounds great, but it will no doubt result in a few broken glasses, lots of water spills, and some pretty big chunks of carrot in our salad… in other words, it will most certainly create more work for me, which, by the way, is cited in the article as a reason why American parents don’t include their children in household tasks. But if I make time for them to participate in a meaningful way, and just accept that we will sacrifice a few glasses, it will serve our family well. The kids will participate in household chores, I’ll have real opportunities to express my gratitude, and maybe in a few years they’ll be the American equivalent of the Matsigenka of Peru, and bake me brownies over an open fire.

Training Katherine and Clara to bake brownies; an important responsibility that contributes to the functioning of our family.

Crazy Busy!

If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are. It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint. And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”
Read More

Recipe: Squash Soup

This is a quick and easy recipe. It’s a regular on our summer menu, especially these days with the squash we are getting from our CSA. It goes well with a nice, crusty bread and a salad.


3-4 yellow squash
2 carrots
1 celery stalk
1 onion
1 vegetable bouillon cube (you can use 2 cubes if you prefer a stronger flavor)
1 cup milk 
Salt and pepper to taste

Chop vegetables into small chunks and boil in water until tender. Put vegetables (but not water) in blender, add milk and bouillon cube. Blend until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste and warm in pot, if necessary.

Telling Time

Auntie M asked me to write a post about why I don’t want my kids to learn how to tell time. Others have also wondered about this, asking if it there is some Waldorf philosophy around it. Part of it does relate to a general Waldorf philosophy about keeping kids in the present, but I have to admit that I also don’t want them to tell time for my own convenience. 

Having my kids be able to tell time would make my life more difficult. Right now, bedtime is when we say it is bedtime. Nap time is over when we say it is over.  “Time to leave the park” is when I feel like leaving (usually for good reason, like to go home to eat lunch before there is a major meltdown). If Katherine could tell time, it would be the end of my flexibility when it comes to adjusting the schedule based on my the kids’ needs. Sometimes I really need nap/quiet time to go until 3:15 so I can finish up a work email… sometimes Dave and I need bedtime to be at 7 instead of 7:30 because the kids are exhausted, or we need that extra half hour to just sit and eat dessert by ourselves. I can just imagine Katherine calling us on that: “It’s not bedtime, it’s only 7! Bedtime is at 7:30.” That is not what we need at the end of the day. 

However, there is good reason (other than my own convenience) to hold off on teaching young children to tell time. Waldorf teachers often talk about how important it is for children to stay present in the moment. Knowing what time it is does not benefit them, it takes them out of the present and prevents them from sinking into their play. It can also add an element of anxiety. I believe it is the parents’ job to worry about the time (i.e., getting out the door on time, getting to bed on time), and this burden should not fall on the child. As I’ve written before, one of the wonders of childhood is to not be burdened with time. I would like to preserve that wonder for as long as possible.

I have no doubt Katherine is capable of learning to tell time, and it would probably be fun to teach her, and she might even get some satisfaction out of it… but then what? After the novelty wore off she’d be stuck knowing what time it is. I see no benefit in that for her, especially since she would still have a 5-year-old concept of time - meaning she would be able to tell time from a clock, but she would not really know what to do with this information. If she saw it was 8:05am and knew we needed to leave at 8:15am, would she be able to figure out that her current pace was not going to get her ready in time and then actually move faster to accommodate running behind? Probably not. Even if she could, especially if she could, I would not want to place that on her. At least not yet. I’d rather give her as long as possible to enjoy not being tied to time. Soon enough she’ll be racing against the clock to get her homework done, wishing for time to pass quickly so she can go get her driver’s license, trying to slow time down when she realizes her children are growing up too fast… 

For now I’d rather she just play happily and not worry about how much longer she has or what is coming next and when. 

A Car Rental Rant

This past weekend we went to visit my family. It was our first time traveling with three kids and based on time constraints, convenience, and other basic logistics, we decided it made the most sense to fly and then rent a car along with three car seats.

We made the car rental reservations months in advance and three days before our trip I called Budget to confirm. I made a point of (1) speaking to a human, which is a feat in and of itself, (2) confirming our reservation, and (3) emphasizing that we needed three carseats and a car big enough for three car seats to be available upon our arrival. The human assured me a minivan along with three car seats would be waiting for us. He even read our reservation back to me word for word. I thanked him and crossed “confirm car rental” off my list.

You can guess what happened. We arrived at O’Hare, walked the mile to baggage claim, waited 10 minutes in 95 degree heat for the Budget shuttle, and stood in line at the Budget counter for 30 minutes. I actually didn’t wait in the line, Dave did. I found a nice little corner, fed the kids a snack, took Katherine and Clara to the bathroom, and changed Alexandra’s diaper, all of which also took 30 minutes. Then I was ready to get in the car and be on our way. But Dave was still at the counter talking to the woman. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, then twenty… Budget had neither a minivan nor three carseats. The woman didn’t even see carseats on our reservation. My pointing out that I had confirmed our reservation - complete with carseats - just days earlier did not help. It took an hour and a half for Budget to locate a “car of equivalent size” and three carseats. When we dragged the kids, bags, and carseats across the parking, we found an SUV with one backseat row that wouldn’t fit three carseats.

By this point we were well into naptime, melting in the heat, and at a loss of what to do next. No one was in a good place, least of all me, because not only do I lack patience and have a hard time dealing with incompetence, I really don’t care for SUVs.* We pleaded with a Budget guy in the parking lot and he eventually found us an even bigger SUV with a third row. We installed the carseats, loaded the kids, and got out of there.

An image of the monstrosity, showing the inaccessible third row, nonexistent trunk space, and lack of handy sliding door.I’ll just take a moment here to explain why I don’t care for SUVs. First of all, we are a small car (as in Nissan Versa small) family and committed to remaining that way. Second of all, if we were to be a big car family (which I admit may happen someday), we would go for a minivan, not an SUV. The monstrosity we ended up with, like a minivan, had three rows, but it was impossible to get to the third row without folding down one of the second row seats, which of course wasn’t possible when there was a carseat in it. We weren’t about to uninstall and reinstall a carseat every time we needed to get Katherine into her third row seat and we couldn’t put Clara or Alexandra back there to free up a second row seat because we couldn’t fit either of their carseats past the second row. There was probably some better way to do it, but standing there in the heat with three hungry, tired kids, we weren’t about to figure it out. In the end we had Katherine climb in through the trunk and over the back of her seat. A minivan doesn’t have this problem. It has three rows, a lovely sliding door, and a convenient aisle so everyone can get to their seat with minimal, if any, difficulty.

But all’s well that ends well: the kids held it together at Budget (more than the parents did), having to climb in through the trunk and over the seat was the highlight of the trip for Katherine (she’s still talking about it and asking why we can’t always have that “nice car”), we made it to my parents’ house and had a relaxing visit, and Alexandra took revenge on Budget on our behalf with a mighty blowout. Of course we had to clean it, but it was quite gratifying to see her poop running down the carseat and onto the seat.

Anyway, this isn’t exactly a post on parenting, but it happened while I had kids with me, so that is close enough. I try to keep in mind that as a parent my behavior should always be worthy of imitation. This can be very challenging, especially in situations like this, when I am beyond frustration and feel helpless when it comes to solving a problem that shouldn’t even exist. This time I failed, I was definitely not worthy of imitation at the Budget counter.

*Except for Sarah’s because I associate it with our weekly play date.