The Danger in Disclosure

I'm a proponent of talking to kids the same way you'd talk to adults. I don't "dumb down" my vocabulary or explanations, and I definitely don't do baby talk. As a result, my 5- and 4-year olds are relatively well-spoken and informed children. I have learned as of late, however, that when it comes to responding articulately to their endless string of "Whys?" there can be danger in full disclosure.

For instance, when you set a precedent of sharing details they come to expect that level of specificity on a regular basis, which made for an interesting situation when we were trying to explain why my husband was out-of-commission following his recent vasectomy. Everyone from our neighbors to my former boss enjoyed hearing stories about my husband's "hurt penis."

Also, by introducing complex concepts you open the door to loose interpretations and misapplications. Such was the case when I, at my wits end with my eldest daughter's constant need for entertainment and companionship, announced that it was high time she learn to play independently. Besides helping her develop self-reliance and faith in her own problem-solving and creative abilities, this critical life skill saves me from assuming the role of perma-playmate/cruise director.

After learning that "independently" meant "alone", my daughter decided she was adamantly opposed to independent play, despite my reassurance that it was not punishment.

Knowing this, I shouldn't have been surprised last Saturday when, horrified to learn that "the plan" for the day was for my husband to work on refinishing my parents' kitchen cabinets and for me to clean our blinds and windows, she announced, "You know it's no fun for me to play independently." So she didn't, opting instead to shadow my every move, which made the messy, tedious spring cleaning job even more enjoyable.

Mere days later, after she and her brother discovered the heap of plastic junk that my husband had "accidentally" tossed into the outside garbage can before mowing the  backyard, she wailed, "How are we supposed to play independently if you throw away all of our toys?!?" Stifling a laugh, I reminded her that there were still plenty of toys on our property with which they could play independently.

My son, a champion independent player, takes a less-accusatory approach, preferring instead to capitalize on my fondness for the concept when his sisters are encroaching on his territory (the younger) or tormenting him (the older.) Just yesterday, when his big sister invited herself into his game of whatever, he looked up at me with his giant blue-gray eyes and said, "Can I just play independently for a little while?" 

Yes, buddy. And as for me, I'm going to practice being vague.