Adventures in Parenting

I remember three titles from my childhood, though I don't remember distinctly the plot of the stories: Tales of the Kingdom, Tales of the Resistance, and Tales of the Restoration. Although I don't remember any of the details, I remember my heart being captivated by the stories. So in nostalgia, I asked for the books as birthday gifts (which my parents kindly obliged).

Tonight I picked up Tales of the Kingdom. I had begun reading it a few months ago to Elisabeth, but quickly realized that it would be too scary for her age and temperament. As I read the first chapter this evening, I realized why it had left such an imprint on me, even if the plot line didn't stick. Like Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, it is fantasy literature that communicates gravity and reality. It is the kind of literature that makes one bold.

I look forward to savoring every page.

As part of our regular family worship, we use a little catechism book written for young children. I asked Elisabeth one of the questions,

    "What does it mean to repent of your sins?"

Usually she recites the answer to this question word-for-word ("I am truly sorry for my sins. I hate them and want to stop doing them. I want to live to please God."), but last night she paraphrased and turned it into prayer: "I tell God that I hate my sin and I'm sorry for doing it. I want to stop doing it, but something makes me keep doing it, and I need your help."

I paused. Usually the catechism flows from one question to the next because each question follows on the previous questions. But after this response I couldn't continue. (Or, rather, I was tempted to continue, but felt that it would be entirely unfitting.) The only appropriate was to stop and pray that prayer that Elisabeth had so eloquently described.

It was one of those moments that reminded me just how rewarding daily catechism is.

This afternoon Elisabeth and I played catch with a small basketball. Until today "playing catch" has meant me throwing the ball to land between her outstretched hands and chest while she closes her eyes. Needless to say, unless my toss was perfect, the ball usually bounced to the ground.

Today was a different story. We started out in the usual mode, and then I decided to throw only to her hands, and not into the hand/arm/chest basket. After a few tries, she was using her hands to try to catch the ball. With a bit more practice, she even kept her eyes open! After 15 minutes, she was catching 90 percent of my tosses (first from about 3 feet away, and then graduating to 8 or 10 feet back).

Today I observed one of those amazing leaps forward in child development in the span of only 15 minutes. What an amazing privilege of parenting!

(You can bet we'll be back outside with the basketball tomorrow  . . .)

Yesterday we finished reading Charlotte's Web! It has been such a long time since I read it as a child that I had forgotten many of the major plot twists and was able to enjoy it as if for the first time!

For Elisabeth it was a major milestone in listening to and enjoying a 'chapter book.' Until now she has insisted upon pictures on every page (and preferably both pages) of the books we read together. Through Charlotte's Web her listening skills and imagination were sharpened to really enjoy a book that has illustrations only every third or fourth page. I think that our next 'bus reading' book may be Stuart Little, as it is by the same author and is great for young children.

What a delight it is to have the worlds of pictures books and chapter books open to us!

"C.S. lewis said that no book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally worth reading at the age of fifty. Children's books cannot be written for or down to children. Children reject books that do not treat them as equals. The 'My dear little reader' approach never really pleased children. Books are written not so much for children as written by people who have not lost their childhood." (Honey for a Child's Heart p41)

I think that there is much to learn from Lewis and Hunt on children's literature, and equally on parenting. When I read this paragraph, I couldn't help but think about the way that many parents speak to their children. 'Speaking down to them' is an apt description, and the children's response is little different from how they respond to books that adopt a similar tone.

Children can be regarded either as responsible or as nuisances. If they are mere nuisances, then speaking down to them is natural, because we don't expect anything from them in return. But if a child is responsible (as indeed all children are, in varying degrees), then it is possible to speak in a way that acknowledges their responsibility and honors it, rather than demeaning them. Even if the vocabulary is altered for the child's age, it is clear to all present that the child is a responsible person, and is being accorded the dignity of that level of responsibility.

In my experience, children respond to that kind of language in much the same way they do to great literature.

"Childhood is so brief and yet so open and formative that we must not neglect our responsibility to furnish it with what we know is good. Impressions are taken into maturity; we are shaping a future. I cannot believe that children exposed to the best literature will later choose that which is cheap and demeaning. That is why only the rarest kind of best is good enough for children." (Honey for a Child's Heart p42)

It is indeed the responsibility of parents to intentionally bring 'what we know is good' into our children's lives through literature and experience. I am eagerly anticipating the launch of tumblon's resource section, in which we will make it easy for parents to find (and recommend) those books!

Recently Elisabeth was upset and wanted to be alone. So she wrote a sign and put it on her door. It read:

    "No peple."

(We helped her add the "o" even though she was grumpy.)

Elisabeth, receiving her bowl of ice cream, said with confidence:

    "I promise I might not spill."

I think her experience has made her guarded in her proclamations.

This week at Start with Art at the Met, the teacher read Little Blue and Little Yellow to the children before looking at a work of art that used color in much the same way Leo Lionni did in this children's book. Lionni tells a delightful story of two friends, and introduces his readers to two primary colors and one secondary color. (For a great book on all the primary and secondary colors, check out Mouse Paint.)

If you're looking for a fun, simple color story, check it out.

We discovered a wonderful poem in the Illustrated Treasury of Children's Literature, which Elisabeth has taken to reciting at the dinner table:

    The Goops they lick their fingers,
    And the Goops they lick their knives;
    They spill their broth on the tablecloth -
    Oh, they lead disgusting lives!
    The Goops they talk while eating,
    And loud and fast they chew;
    And that is why I'm glad that I
    am not a Goop - are you?

More than once during dinner I have asked her, "Are you a Goop?" and she promptly corrects her behavior!

I have been amazed to see how well Elisabeth responds to limits. She seems to already understand that limits are good for her, and often confesses breaking them, even when we are not aware that she has done so. She will come to me and say, "Daddy, I did ___," without prompting.

It so warms my heart to know that she understands and embraces these limits, and is not afraid to confess when she has broken them. What a happy way to grow up!