Kids can be great teachers (12/15/03)

“Are you gonna lie?” my seven-year-old nephew asked me when I told him I broke Mom’s bird cage. I thought it was interesting that it was his first reaction. He didn’t ask how I broke it or even note that his grandmother would be mad. Instead he asked me if I was going to lie.

I told him no, but I didn’t tell him that I thought about not saying anything.

I had taken the bottom of the cage off so I could clean it. There was a piece inside that was supposed to keep the seeds from flying everywhere. I scrubbed too hard and it broke in half. It fit back into the cage nicely and my mother probably wouldn’t have noticed it was broken.

I confessed anyway. I offered to buy her a new cage even though she has several old cages in the garage. The parakeets didn’t care one way or another. Mom forgave me and said to leave it as it was. We thought about gluing it back together but decided the parakeets couldn’t move it since it was wedged into place.

When we are children we tend to fear being punished for breaking things or making simple mistakes. We also know that sometimes we can deny the wrongdoing and get away with it. Therefore, lying is a reasonable option when something bad happens.

I have never understood people who get upset when children lie. They’re children. Testing the limits and figuring out the results of their actions is what they are supposed to do.

I have found that it is usually better to own up to mistakes than it is to try to cover them up. Worrying about getting caught isn’t worth whatever consequence there may be. If I admit to breaking the bird cage then the cage can be fixed or not and I can get on with other things like taking my four-year-old niece to the grocery store.

While we are at the store someone calls out “Katiebug? Katiebug? Hi, Katiebug!” She tells me that is her buddy. I ask if he has a name. With as much contempt as a little girl can muster, she tells me that of course he has a name. Everybody has a name.

When I ask what it is she tells me she doesn’t know but that he is her very best buddy. After a conversation in which neither of us understands everything the child is saying, I wheel the cart away as she waves and says, “Bye, Buddy.”

His name is John. I asked.

Back at Mom’s I enjoy a game with the other nephew. I lose without even trying to lose. I am so bad that I’m embarrassed. Instead of shooting the “flies” into the frog’s mouth I tend to shoot them at my opponent. I am really good at hitting the frog’s eyes but that isn’t the object of the game.

Part of the reason I enjoy going to my Mom’s is the time I get to spend with the youngest members of the family. I learn so much from them. From one, I learned that I am terrible at playing “Mr. Mouth,” from another I get a lesson in the benefits of lying versus telling the truth and from the third I learn that it isn’t important to know your best buddy’s name.

These are things I never could have learned at home.

I already know the benefits of telling the truth but I did think that knowing what your friend’s names were was important. I guess not. I already knew that I was terrible at kid’s games. I am out of practice and it has been a long time since I was that young. But no matter how old I get there are still things to be learned from the little ones.[[In-content Ad]]