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Mar. 13th, 2008 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaStill no DSL at home.
So I share with you, with commentary, four Conversations With Our Daughter that I wrote down on lined paper with a pen.
Conversation #1: Erudite.
Alex: (playing with blocks) Look, Papa, I made a forest.
Michael: (to me) Wow, that's some solid representation!
Alex: Yes, so it is.
I don't know why, but "so it is" just totally cracks me up, coming from a three-year-old. It wasn't until after this conversation that I realized how often we say "so it is" - probably because conversation with a toddler involves a great deal of responding to statements of the obvious.
Conversation #2: Imaginative.
Alex: There's a wolf in here.
Us: There is? Where?
Alex: In here. Right there. (gestures to empty space.)
Michael: Is this one of those very, very tiny wolves?
Alex: Yes. (gestures with thumb and index finger about half an inch apart). It's this big. Are you afraid of the wolf?
Me: No.
Alex: You're not afraid of the wolf?
Me: Not such a tiny little wolf, no.
Alex: Are you afraid of big wolves?
Me: I guess so.
Alex: There's a BIG wolf in here.
Unfortunately, I cannot reproduce the long conversation we had about a dragon who initially attacked the house and then wound up marrying Alex. We are pretty much knee-deep in wolves and dragons, 24/7. Have I mentioned before that she's going through a huge fairy tale phase?
Conversation #3: Embarrassing.
Alex: Africa is a special kind of zoo.
Me: No, no. Africa is a huge land. It has cities and lots of people living there, and it also has a lot of animals too.
Alex, scornfully: Noooo, it doesn't have cities and people!
Me: (dies of liberal guilt)
Okay, I didn't really die of liberal guilt, because (a) she's not quite three and (b) no one heard her say this but me. But it was kind of shocking to realize just how easy it is for kids to absorb ethnocentric assumptions about the world, even when it's the last thing that you, as their parent, want to convey. But yeah, when you're a preschooler - especially a white preschooler - probably your only exposure to the word "Africa" comes from the context of African animals.
We talked more about it, and when we got to the zoo (which is where we were headed) I was able to show her the relative positions of Baltimore and Africa on a little world map. Now I have to figure out how much cultural education constitutes overkill. Just in general, she should probably have a laminated world map to consult when we talk or read about other places. But does a three-year-old even understand the concept of a map?
Conversation #4: Sad.
Alex: Is there going to be a new baby in our family?
Me: No.
Alex: Why not?
Me: Remember when I was very sick? That was because we thought there was a baby growing in my tummy, but there wasn't. And it made me sick.
Alex: But you're not sick anymore.
Me: I know, but there still isn't a baby.
Alex: Awwwww.
Me: I know. I wish there was a baby too. It makes me very sad, and sometimes I cry about it.
Alex: It makes me very sad, but I don't cry.
No commentary on this one. It happened out of the blue while I was doing the nursery school drop-off one morning. I guess that, just as we didn't realize we had to explain that moving meant not living in the old house again, we also didn't realize that we had to explain that healing from the miscarriage didn't automatically equal pregnancy. Damn.
So I share with you, with commentary, four Conversations With Our Daughter that I wrote down on lined paper with a pen.
Conversation #1: Erudite.
Alex: (playing with blocks) Look, Papa, I made a forest.
Michael: (to me) Wow, that's some solid representation!
Alex: Yes, so it is.
I don't know why, but "so it is" just totally cracks me up, coming from a three-year-old. It wasn't until after this conversation that I realized how often we say "so it is" - probably because conversation with a toddler involves a great deal of responding to statements of the obvious.
Conversation #2: Imaginative.
Alex: There's a wolf in here.
Us: There is? Where?
Alex: In here. Right there. (gestures to empty space.)
Michael: Is this one of those very, very tiny wolves?
Alex: Yes. (gestures with thumb and index finger about half an inch apart). It's this big. Are you afraid of the wolf?
Me: No.
Alex: You're not afraid of the wolf?
Me: Not such a tiny little wolf, no.
Alex: Are you afraid of big wolves?
Me: I guess so.
Alex: There's a BIG wolf in here.
Unfortunately, I cannot reproduce the long conversation we had about a dragon who initially attacked the house and then wound up marrying Alex. We are pretty much knee-deep in wolves and dragons, 24/7. Have I mentioned before that she's going through a huge fairy tale phase?
Conversation #3: Embarrassing.
Alex: Africa is a special kind of zoo.
Me: No, no. Africa is a huge land. It has cities and lots of people living there, and it also has a lot of animals too.
Alex, scornfully: Noooo, it doesn't have cities and people!
Me: (dies of liberal guilt)
Okay, I didn't really die of liberal guilt, because (a) she's not quite three and (b) no one heard her say this but me. But it was kind of shocking to realize just how easy it is for kids to absorb ethnocentric assumptions about the world, even when it's the last thing that you, as their parent, want to convey. But yeah, when you're a preschooler - especially a white preschooler - probably your only exposure to the word "Africa" comes from the context of African animals.
We talked more about it, and when we got to the zoo (which is where we were headed) I was able to show her the relative positions of Baltimore and Africa on a little world map. Now I have to figure out how much cultural education constitutes overkill. Just in general, she should probably have a laminated world map to consult when we talk or read about other places. But does a three-year-old even understand the concept of a map?
Conversation #4: Sad.
Alex: Is there going to be a new baby in our family?
Me: No.
Alex: Why not?
Me: Remember when I was very sick? That was because we thought there was a baby growing in my tummy, but there wasn't. And it made me sick.
Alex: But you're not sick anymore.
Me: I know, but there still isn't a baby.
Alex: Awwwww.
Me: I know. I wish there was a baby too. It makes me very sad, and sometimes I cry about it.
Alex: It makes me very sad, but I don't cry.
No commentary on this one. It happened out of the blue while I was doing the nursery school drop-off one morning. I guess that, just as we didn't realize we had to explain that moving meant not living in the old house again, we also didn't realize that we had to explain that healing from the miscarriage didn't automatically equal pregnancy. Damn.
