I read this list of “the best” children’s books of 2014. A lot of them look great. And then the entry for The Baby Tree by Sophie Blackall got me thinking.
The standard advice about answering children’s questions about “tricky” subjects–sex, death, etc.–is to answer the question that was asked. Don’t overthink it, don’t give more information than they can process. They asked a question that reflects the level of information they’re ready for.
Sounds great. I certainly want to teach Baguette everything she wants to know.
But what if your child can’t ask the questions to begin with? How do we know what she wants to know?
Photo by Alexander Henning Drachmann, via Flickr. Creative Commons.
I’ve thought the same . . . I mean, I’ll answer whatever question my kid might answer, straight forward . . . but what happens when I misunderstand the original question? Because, well, I misunderstand a lot.
They’ll run screaming from the room, and you’ll think, “Well, shoot, I got that wrong.” At least, that’s my guess.
Baguette is learning about sisters from Frozen, and some of her friends now have little brothers and sisters. Maybe she wants to know how that happens. I have no way of knowing.
When my daughter started showing some curiosity about what sex was (she was a few years older than Baguette is now), I got a for-kids book about sex that showed things (not TOO much gritty information!) in kid-friendly drawings. I casually left it out in the living room on top of a stack of magazines. Sure enough, that day it disappeared into her room. A couple of weeks later we were on vacation (just her and me), and I had the talk with her, but more focused on her rights as a person. Was that the right approach? I don’t know. It worked for us. I’ll always remember when I was five, my parents and I were driving back home from a department store, and I casually asked where babies come from. They promptly gave me The Talk With Details. I was grossed out! I didn’t want that much information! I didn’t want that information at all! So maybe I was overly sensitive when it came to be my turn at it.
My mother used to talk to me when she was putting me to bed at night; she said that sometimes she’d be embarrassed about subjects, but in the dark I couldn’t see if she looked uncomfortable. It worked, because I always felt I could talk to her about just about anything.
I also bought age-appropriate books at different ages. We read them together, and if she asked questions, I answered, if she didn’t ask, I left it alone. The early ones mostly focused on appropriate names of anatomy ( so you don’t have a kid who says it hurts “down there”, which I find silly) and the idea that you have the right to personal space and people shouldn’t touch you if you say, “no.” I can’t remember the names of the books I bought, except the one when she was about 10 and ready for “the talk.” It was by the publisher of the “American Girl” books and was good. She asked a lot of questions about tampons. And then when she started menstruating, she didn’t even tell me! I found out when she had her annual check-up last year and the dr asked. She said she knew what to do and didn’t realize I wanted to be apprised of the situation.
The thing is, I don’t know what Baguette is ready for, because she can’t ask me. Although we have always used real names for anatomy, because please.