Right and wrong and all the inbetweens
The older Martin gets, the more I realize how complicated it is to teach someone else the difference between right and wrong. Or to help them learn how to figure out for themselves which is the right thing to choose. Or, how to avoid danger while still letting them do stuff that is right on the border so that hopefully they can start to figure some things out for themselves. I my mind I imagined that discussions about right and wrong wouldn't be too difficult. Questions like "why don't you want to crash your car?" seem so simple to answer. "You don't want to get hurt and you don't want your car to get all smashed up" makes perfect sense to me. But to someone who doesn't understand the ramifications of physical injury or all the hassle that even a slightly smashed up car can be, it just doesn't make sense. Here are some examples of recent situations:
Category 1: Choosing the lesser of dangerous options is still dangerous
A few weeks ago, we went to a park to celebrate my mother-in-laws birthday. As I'm sure many parents do, when we arrived at the park I scanned the area for potential danger. Body of water within eyesight, but far enough away that I could catch the kids before they reached the water. Metal slide on playground in direct sunlight, potentially hot enough to burn the backs of tender little legs. Grill same height as Sophie's head, must watch to make sure both kids steer very clear of grilling area. Outhouse, looks much like a shed, but not possibly all that interesting.
Until Martin spotted it, I guess. He seemed to barely even notice all the other potential hazards that were at the top of my list and made a fast beeline for the outhouse. Where he promptly locked himself inside. A hot, sealed, smelly outhouse. At first, I sat back and laughed as Marty sternly told him to get out and as Martin called back "Hi Daddy! I'm in here! I'm in a toilet!" Then, as a minute went by and he didn't come out, I started to worry that he'd get into some trouble in there. It was hot, it was an outhouse, and the worst possible option... maybe it had a tricky lock and he couldn't get out. After two minutes, Marty and I were both outside the door walking him through getting out, trying to be stern but also trying not to scare him. After one minute more, he emerged unscathed and ran straight for the slide of fire.
Category 2: Understanding danger without experience or fear
This is probably the hardest one for me - how to explain the implications of doing something dangerous to Martin when he doesn't understand what my warnings mean. Trying to open the car door while we're driving is obviously dangerous to me, but trying to explain what could happen to someone who doesn't understand serious injury or worse is seemingly impossible. Tripping Sophie when she runs by means it's nothing but luck saving her from falling against a million edges or hard surfaces. Stopping at the end of the driveway instead of running out into the street to avoid passing cars is an abstract concept at best. Even if he can understand not wanting to get hurt, how can I explain the option that is worse than injury that I can't even bring myself to consider?
Category 3: Danger that I know is fun
A few weeks ago, Martin received a large magnifying glass as a gift. My first reaction was to tell him that if you hold it right when it's really sunny outside, you could totally use it to start a fire strong enough to burn leaves or ants or the little black pellets that turn into ashy snakes when they ignite. Because that's what my neighbor Scott and I used to do when I was not much older than Martin is right now. Now, the obvious answer is that I could not tell him these things. But do I have an obligation to say "now don't use this to start any fires with this" or is that just giving him an idea? As I was running through all these scenarios, Sophie picked up the magnifying glass, chucked it in the air, and it landed on her face. Hard enough to leave a mark that has formed into a week-long scab. Didn't even see that one coming.
Category 1: Choosing the lesser of dangerous options is still dangerous
A few weeks ago, we went to a park to celebrate my mother-in-laws birthday. As I'm sure many parents do, when we arrived at the park I scanned the area for potential danger. Body of water within eyesight, but far enough away that I could catch the kids before they reached the water. Metal slide on playground in direct sunlight, potentially hot enough to burn the backs of tender little legs. Grill same height as Sophie's head, must watch to make sure both kids steer very clear of grilling area. Outhouse, looks much like a shed, but not possibly all that interesting.
Until Martin spotted it, I guess. He seemed to barely even notice all the other potential hazards that were at the top of my list and made a fast beeline for the outhouse. Where he promptly locked himself inside. A hot, sealed, smelly outhouse. At first, I sat back and laughed as Marty sternly told him to get out and as Martin called back "Hi Daddy! I'm in here! I'm in a toilet!" Then, as a minute went by and he didn't come out, I started to worry that he'd get into some trouble in there. It was hot, it was an outhouse, and the worst possible option... maybe it had a tricky lock and he couldn't get out. After two minutes, Marty and I were both outside the door walking him through getting out, trying to be stern but also trying not to scare him. After one minute more, he emerged unscathed and ran straight for the slide of fire.
Category 2: Understanding danger without experience or fear
This is probably the hardest one for me - how to explain the implications of doing something dangerous to Martin when he doesn't understand what my warnings mean. Trying to open the car door while we're driving is obviously dangerous to me, but trying to explain what could happen to someone who doesn't understand serious injury or worse is seemingly impossible. Tripping Sophie when she runs by means it's nothing but luck saving her from falling against a million edges or hard surfaces. Stopping at the end of the driveway instead of running out into the street to avoid passing cars is an abstract concept at best. Even if he can understand not wanting to get hurt, how can I explain the option that is worse than injury that I can't even bring myself to consider?
Category 3: Danger that I know is fun
A few weeks ago, Martin received a large magnifying glass as a gift. My first reaction was to tell him that if you hold it right when it's really sunny outside, you could totally use it to start a fire strong enough to burn leaves or ants or the little black pellets that turn into ashy snakes when they ignite. Because that's what my neighbor Scott and I used to do when I was not much older than Martin is right now. Now, the obvious answer is that I could not tell him these things. But do I have an obligation to say "now don't use this to start any fires with this" or is that just giving him an idea? As I was running through all these scenarios, Sophie picked up the magnifying glass, chucked it in the air, and it landed on her face. Hard enough to leave a mark that has formed into a week-long scab. Didn't even see that one coming.
Hello! You missed the most obvious outhouse danger, the one that consumes my nightmares - that my kids fall IN the outhouse hole. Yikes. Those things are Scary, with a capital S.
Of course my nightmares are usually plagued with the added philosophical question - how hard would it be to make yourself jump into an outhouse, even if it was to save your own kid? I mean, you would have to do it, but then there are just 2 of you up S*** creek, right?
Thank goodness he got out. Don't ever go there again. I won't be able to sleep tonight, just thinking of it. Thanks, Jennie.
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I think being locked in an outhouse or having my child be is about the worst nightmare I can think of. As a kid I refused to use them. When camping I would avoid them by only using the bathroom when we could go into town so I could use a flushable toilet. I also made is an entire week at girl scott camp w/out using them. There was a flushable toilet at the dinning hall so I would only go to the bathroom at breakfast lunch and dinner. Now I just don't go to places that only have outhouses. They are way too scary.
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