Kids ask questions.
Hell, that’s the basis of Go Ask Daddy on Fridays. They don’t stop asking, even after 357 questions. Who are the people made of clay? Why is TV on a delay for NFL games? Are you going to sit in a racecar for your haircut, daddy?
(Very funny, kid.)
The answers and discussions flow painlessly. (Greek and Sumerian mythology refers to clay people. Islam mentions them, too. A 7-second delay keeps F-bombs off NFL broadcasts. And no, I didn’t sit in a racecar. I didn’t need a booster seat, either.)
A kid will drop an Atomic Meltdown firework on you, too. “Would you die for me, daddy?” That’s one.
With kids, as with a rearview mirror, objects are often closer than they appear. If their inquisitive nature is a southbound train, it passes through Columbia, S.C., 17 hours ahead of schedule.
They’ll ask and wonder on subjects they don’t have the capacity to understand. It’s up to dad to figure it out. Even when they don’t ask until after the fact.
The Holocaust, explained to a middle school girl
Dad missed a preemptive strike on this one with his oldest girl.
Now a high school junior, Elise texts me from school for pointers on assignments. “How long was Barry Bonds suspended after steroids?” We review opposites for Spanish class or the role of Congress on the drive to school. She carried a paperback on the holocaust in her backpack in eighth grade. I had no idea.
She lay facing the wall in bed, wide-eyed. She clutched her blanket when I came in to kiss her goodnight.
She’d just finished the book. Horror strikes the core when it’s real. Star Wars has suspense, and Indiana Jones adventure and danger. Historic horror holds a place beyond imagination, doesn’t it? When the syllabus comes out – that’s when it’s best to talk.
After the fact is fine, too.
Florida vs. West Virginia (not in the Gator Bowl)
I took an elementary-school Marie to an all-sports camp. Against.her.will. Little Marie wasn’t the adventurous warrior bigger Marie turned out to be. I sat in the stands to watch her play. She shot me a death scowl between each session. The sweet kid must’ve missed her daddy.
Last summer, a friend invited her for a weeklong trip to Florida. Just three kids, a dad, and a motorhome. Marie, 13 at the time, wanted to hit the road.
A winter later, another friend dropped an eleventh-hour getaway invite. A church group headed to West Virginia for two days of tubing, snowboarding and skiing. Bolting down a mountain on slick ski gear? That beats the Florida sun on the danger scale by at least 17 points.
Guess which trip Marie took?
It amazes me she’s never asked, why kibosh the Florida trip, and green-light West Virginia? Age? Company? Gut feeling? Yes. If she asks someday, I’ll tell her just what I thought of both trips. Not that it will make much sense to her.
Until she’s a parent herself.
The baby: A question machine
Grace, age 10, studies economics and electricity. Her class works on adjectives and articles, and writes persuasive essays.
She asks the burning questions.
Why aren’t numbers cursive?
How do they coach kids for a spelling bee?
Is the green stuff on strawberries good for you?
I’m proud of that inquisitive nature. Her sisters have it, too. That she asks me shows she trusts me. What if the questions feel too heavy, though?
What if the answers feel too light?
Why do you have to die before people will listen?
Have you ever stolen anything?
Why do you take all those pills?
A parent’s the only one who gets it. We listen, we react. I’ve had conversations with my youngest lately I didn’t expect yet. But she put her trust in me.
Kids aren’t too young (or, I hope, too old) for that kind of discussion.
I am truly amazed at the questions I get asked here, too and yet still can’t believe how quickly my two are growing up, which I a bit of what I actually wrote about today. So stay tuned!
I’m convinced every question they ask me staves off dementia for at least a day for me. I’ll check out your post!
Eli, if only it were that easy!
My dad said the best kids are those that are a little bit naughty and a whole bit inquisitive.
I have blue-ribbon winning kids, then, Yvonne! I love that sentiment.
I loved this post and totally concur with the West Virginia trip! And yes, they ask the strangest things….like “when daddy gets old and is about to die, can I hug him before he goes to the heaven?” That one threw me yesterday! Pinning and tweeting this for you!
Thanks Kristen! When my youngest asked “would you die for me, daddy?” it led to an entire post of its own.
I can see how that one threw you!
Thanks so much for the pin and tweet … glad I found your blog today!
Oh, much as I love the beach I’m pretty sure I know why the West Virginia trip was the winner!!!
I’m trying to keep the questions going with my boys – they are at an age where they sometimes think that they already have all the answers:)
What’s your theory, Kim, on the trip? I could do a Go Ask Daddy every day and have enough for months and months, from their questions – mostly Grace’s!
Lately, Prime’s questions have turned from “Why is the grass green?” into “What would happen if the grass *wasn’t* green?”
I think it’s time to read some more Dr. Seuss books to answer that one. That and to do research for future questions… oy.
I knew some philosophy majors from my college days who would like to hang with Prime. Especially when the learn his name is Prime.
A good trick is to turn the question back around to the kid. Cosmic. Stay on top of it Kimster.
curiosity is a sign of great intelligence. and your answers help to feed that machine. p.s. – you’ll enjoy the fact that i’m dating a single dad/coach/former business guy. with a sense of humor.
well-said, beth – i’ll keep shoveling. what a lucky dude! you must have found him someplace cool, like the self-check line.
well-picked, beth. well-picked.
There’s not a thing wrong with kids questions is there Mate? it’s finding the right answers that’s the problem.
Kids questions make my world go round, mate. Even when I don’t find the right answer, I think it shows them I tried.
Indeed Mate, indeed.
I’m laughing a bit because the only medication I’ll take is Flonase, which you have to take up your nose. And I just know that Scarlet has gone to school and told her friends, “My mom puts things up her nose!” It’s just allergy medicine, I swear!
And last night at night she was asking us about segregation. Whew. She’s five. What are we in for?
Flonase is a gateway drug, isn’t it? But Coke is so 80s – isn’t it? I’m so out of touch.
You’ve only just begun with the questions, TamTam. Just wait. You’re in for questions about whether boy or girl cardinals are red, if there are the same colors for crayons and markers, and if I’ve heard about the woman who got a third boob to go between the two nature gave her.
that’s what you’re in for.
I will have my answers ready.
I am continually amazed at the questions asked on a daily basis by my 3. Especially that they can range from the completely ridiculous – “why do farts smell mom, it’s just air escaping your butt, right?” to the so deep I can’t believe you connected those two things who are you, Buddha?
I swear sometimes they see things better than us adults who cloud the issue up with all our own BS.
The best way to a BS-free perspective is to see life through a kid’s eyes.