Split parenting personality

Having two boys seven years apart is like having a personality split in two directions.

For instance, when your baby drools on your phone, drops the tv remote or tears your favorite book, you just pull him up, pinch his cheeks, tickle him like crazy with "You are sooooo cute."

But when your 7-year-old does the same, you give him the dagger look, put him on the corner, lecture him on the value of money, or, on will-power-depleted days, yell at him.

The harder part comes when you have to react differently when they cry. For baby, you can be your natural soothing and protective self. For Kuya, you have to put up a hard Stoic front, even if your heart breaks in between his quiet sobs.

The day goes by with all this shifting back and forth between monster mum and likable mum. It can be very very draining.

But I guess that's how it should really be.

My only consolation is that at night, while watching them both sleep, I get to see two babies again, breathing your love in, and breathing their understanding, growing, forgiving love back to you.

parenting by kids' standards

I admit, with his baby brother taking up more time and energy, I have been anything but fun around Kuya Bugey. Right now, I'm thanking my lucky stars for Lakay who's doing a great job in compensating for Mum.

Now, if there's a good thing that comes from being sidetracked by a demanding 6-month-old,  then that would be an extra doze of mindfulness for the mother to spend great, albeit brief, bonding moments with the big brother. Two Saturdays ago, Bugey found me working in front of our desktop, and managed to squeeze himself in. I was about to protest, when I realized it's been a while since he did this to me. And so then I let him drill his already heavy and sharp butt bones on my lap, as I clicked on an old toy we've had lots of fun with --Photobooth.  

"Relax, you're doing a good job," says a friend who came over for dinner last week. She probably noticed how high-strung I was with all this new business of balancing  between two kids. I guess I've been reading too many books, and blogs, and websites about parenting. I raised my expectations on my self too highly. I've forgotten how to just enjoy being a mum.

I mean, parenting literature has definitely been helpful. It's just that I tend to think that the studies and the scientific facts are THE ONLY measure of good parenting. Sometimes, we have to check our selves and ask, "Who's measuring anyway?" There are the well-meaning relatives and friends. There are the experts (like the nurse who raised an eyebrow when we told her yesterday that we've just started feeding our baby solids :). But at the end of the day, the best judge to that will still be our kids. I've read somewhere (here I go again) that kids may be naïve in many ways, but they can tell if you're just faking it.    

I've reached the stage where I  thank my parents profusely for doing a great job on me. Someday, I hope my sons will also say, "Mum, you did a good job. Thanks." - even if the only basis for that would be my letting them take two minutes off my work time to goof around in Photobooth.  

Sesame Street vs Blue's Clues

So one direct result of this childhood regress is my son's renewed interest for the dvds he used to play eternally. I'm talking about his one-time enthusiasm for Sesame Street, which was my closest attempt to exposing him to the Filipino show that dominated my childhood - Batibot (Both shows actually had the same producers. Learn more about it here).

the little one in his Elmo phase

After a while though, this Sesame Street phase was overpowered by an obsession for Blue's Clues.I had no problems with Blue's Clues. Steve and Jo were cute "playmates" who definitely had the charism of getting kids to join them in their adventure. The shows were in many ways entertaining and educational.

photo from here

But watching Sesame Street with my son again made me feel sorry that I didn't pile up more dvds on this (much more bring them to Belgium since one can hardly find any of that here). I also felt sorry that this show has lost support through the years, to think that what they try to teach indirectly has more relevance today than ever before. 

Handycam saved the past

Last weekend I had this brilliant suggestion on  watching home videos of my boy from 5-6 years ago. There was no decent family movie to rent  that day and the boy was getting really bored anyway. At first I thought of playing one or two of those stored up dvds. We ended up playing all.

While watching, I couldn't help but congratulate myself and Lakay for our decision to buy that very reliable handycam, one of our two expensive properties as young parents then (the other one was our digital camera). The pictures were pristine. It captured those toothless smiles, the awkward crawling and walking, the exact pitch and tone of his 2-year-old counting (1-3-2-4-6). It also showed how madly and hopelessly in love the parents were with this baby (like things have changed though the years???).

Why the boy wants to marry mum (beyond Freud)

I've written several entries on my son's (seemingly long) oedipal phase. And many times, I've simply dismissed it as a psychologically normal stage, which, as a Philosophy major, I honestly don't know anything about. Well this big name Freud said so-and-so. I thought, it was probably true.

And then I started to really get concerned about how keen my boy was about marrying mum. Especially when he also started adding the other detail "If I will marry you, Dad will go to heaven on his own." At that point I knew this wasn't just  some psychological phase. My son was telling me something. He was telling me about his fears.


I think it all began with my one big mistake on telling him about death. He asked about  the mums and dads of his grandparents. I told him that they have already gone to heaven. And then I added, unthinkingly, that everyone will one day go to heaven. Even more stupidly, I went to the example that mum and dad will go to heaven, too. Realizing that I crossed the line there, I quickly added that he will one day go there as well, and that we will all be together.

But I was too late. The next morning, he asked the question, "If you and dad will go to heaven, who will be with me?" Then he started to cry. I soothed him with my embrace and just told him that we will always be with him (with the hopes that one day he will understand that I meant that in MANY ways).

Days after, he started saying "I want to marry you mum." To which I would reply, "No, I'm your mum. And I'm married to Dad."

When he finally said one day that Daddy should go to heaven on his own, two things finally dawned on me.

First, he understood that death meant the absence of the one who dies.

Second, he understood that marriage meant that husband and wife will always be together.

Taking these two together, he must have thought that marriage also meant that husband and wife will always be together, even after death. Ergo, marriage is the solution for the fear of absence in death.

Such painful things for a young boy to think about. I wish there was any way that I could take away this fear. ...

He gave up the marrying-mummy fixation after some time. I think it finally dawned on him that he also wouldn't want mum and dad to be separated (more on this in another entry).

Last month, while putting him to bed, he asked, "Mum, can I marry one of my cousins?" I said, "No, because your cousins are your family, too. You have to marry someone from a different family. Marriage is about two families becoming one."

Then the worried boy said, "Then how can I know whom I'll marry?"

To that the dad joined in, "I didn't know I was going to marry mum when I was six years old! I met mum when she was eighteen, and I was twenty."

I think that calmed his fears for a while. I think he understood that he will have to wait.

But of course, that doesn't fill up the void created by the fear. And I don't think anything ever will.

Haaay, anak. What can I say to you. The only thing we can ever promise is that through our constant example, we will teach you to live in faith and hope. And amidst all of life's uncertainties, there is one truth that you can hold on to -- mum and dad will always always always love you.

Love overflows into being

When couples beget their first child, everyone rejoices. Hardly no one ever asks about the necessity of having one. And then when the child has grown a bit, the next typical question that the couple gets (well, at least for Filipinos), is on their plan to have the second one. Then that's when a whole string of discussions begin, especially when the couple expresses hesitation about having another one at all. 

"Your only child will grow up spoiled, or lonely. … 

"His growth won't be balanced, he will hardly learn a sense of responsibility. …"

"When he's old enough to live on his own, you will start to feel the absence of children, and regret not having had more. …"

Last year, in the middle of a similar discussion, a friend of mine pointed out, "Don't we just feel sorry for the second one because her only reason for being is because of the well-being of others?" 

That got me thinking. How else can we honestly  account for the coming of a second child without having to attribute it to some self-serving reason? 

March 2011

sige na nga

I am perfectly aware of all the bad effects of exposing your child to video games at an early age. And I tried as hard as I can to keep my son away from them. Yet, I don't want to be among the high and mighty anti-technology parents, who go as far as labeling PS3, Wii and the like as "demonic" toys.

In everything, balance is key. I know now that parenting is mainly about always finding the perfect balance. (Yeah, yeah. Seriously, I'm really just trying to justify my giving in to Eyepet. Well, if it can make your son smile like you've never seen him that way before, how can you not give in?)

I'm not ready yet

"You're a big boy now," a line we often say here at home,  as if our son has  never heard enough whenever he does something baby-ish. He asks to be spoon-fed, I say "No anak. 5-year-olds can eat on their own." He asks to be carried in the street, his dad says, "You're not a baby anymore." He insists on sleeping on our bed, we carry him back to his bed. He cries over small frustrations, we tell him to act like a big boy. The way I see it, he's taking these rather well. My papa once said in Ilokano, "Nanakem daytuy nga ubing." There's no exact translation for this, but in essence, it means that my son is mature for his age. He doesn't throw a tantrum whenever he doesn't get what he wants. It's not so hard to make him understand things.

Time and again, though, we let him indulge and be the baby that he once was.  I spoon feed him, Lakay would still carry him over his shoulders, and we let him sleep with us on weekends. The one thing we could not yet take away from him, though, is his bedtime ritual. One of us, and that means me most of the time, still has to sing him  lull-a-bye to sleep. That, and the cuddle he has enjoyed since I breast-fed him.

Tonight, he was strangely quiet while I sang to him. I took his hand, and put it around me, thinking that it would make him sleep sooner. I was surprised when he pulled his hand away. I asked him if there was anything wrong. He said, "Nothing."

"Then why won't you hug mum?"

He said, with a sad tone, "I'm a big boy now."

Those words broke me to pieces. I know I've said it a hundred times, but I didn't know that it would pierce through me if they came from him.
I almost objected, but stopped myself short. Confusion is the last thing he needed.

He turned his back and laid on his chest, as if to press down his hands on the bed to keep them from reaching out to mum. Then he asked for his stuffed animal, NEMO. I gave it to him, and watch him finally go to sleep.

When I told the story to Lakay, I found myself shedding a tear. All this time, we've been gently pushing him to grow and learn to spread his own wings.

I didn't realize that I was the one who wasn't ready for it yet. :(

clictoys: on patience

A friend in facebook once said that the work of geniuses can't be that all great - for these are nothing more than the product of a genetic makeup that happens to be beyond normal. What really merits high regard is a work of patience.

Ok. That makes sense to me, for I have the tendency to be complacent as a parent of a young boy who has proven to be brilliant in a lot of ways. I tend to think that I don't need to do much to help in his development. Wrong! Very wrong. For genius or normal, there are some things that people are never born with. Case in point? The patience in learning something new. 

Thought of this today after playing with clictoys - sort of like lego blocks, only that they are flat and more difficult to hinge together. We bought this for his birthday because we've seen him enjoy tinkering with the one owned by a playmate. But then today, I learned that what he loves to do with it is to build stuff based on his imagination. This one he made below is his idea of a camera. 

camera (?)

I say this is very imaginative, yes. And an adventurous mind is definitely important when it comes to innovation. But, it's also equally important that one learns how to follow steps prescribed by others. And this is where our son falls short.

We challenged him to do this airplane model today, and I'd say this afternoon was a real test of patience, not just for the boy, but for the teaching parents. 

Maybe this is piece of cake for other kids. But for my boy, it felt like the end of the world. There was hardly a moment when he didn't heave a sigh, shed a tear or two, or throw a block. And each time, mum and dad would say it's ok, offer him some strategies, and ask him to redo this or that.  I told him to say to himself, "I will learn this,"rather than, "I can't do this." 2 naps later (mum and dad had to take turns), we were able to build this: 

It wasn't exactly a fireworks moment for him after that. But it's a start.  

Someday, he'll learn to value the work of patience - that's if  his parents will stay patient in teaching him that. 

5-year tested truths on parenting

Every time our son gets to celebrate his birthday, I always consider it as an annual graduation day for Lakay and me. (If you find this weird, wait till you hear about how for one month I treated every Tuesday since the day I gave birth as a milestone week!) I think that makes a lot of sense. Every parent has to be given a small pat on the back for letting one more year pass fruitfully and wonderfully for their children. At year 5, I think we can already be promoted to a teeny bit above status from beginner parents. This is because we've somehow learned some tested truths. I've noted some of them, hoping my parent readers here might find it helpful.

1. The most expensive toys are not exactly the ones they will enjoy most.
I think parents, at least we, who have this overwhelming need to show their kids every time how much they love them are deceived by the wrong equation we give between price and love. Oh yes, we've bought him some of these toys, and they simply ended up dusting away in shelves. What this boy prefers? Tissue roll cartons (for telescopes), papers (for as long as they can be written on, cut-out, crumpled, posted on walls), empty boxes (to convert them into cars, hats and whatnots!), a couch or a bed that they can jump on. Point is Leapfrog, Fisher-Price or Disney don't know what your kids want just as much as you do! Don't let them pressure you.

2. Time is the best investment.
We've made some decisions that looked unsound to "practical" parents - renting a condo unit that was within walking distance from Ateneo where I worked, but which also ate up most of our monthly income, and getting a scholarship abroad while putting Lakay's career on hold. I know, at the back of their minds they ask, what would we gain from all these? (yes, even a PhD warrants that question). Lakay was the one who had a clear answer for these--we get to be with our son more rather than leaving all the growing up years to his yaya. I feel so blessed that my husband and I are on the same wavelength here. This is the stage in our lives where people our age are so bent into looking over one's shoulder to make sure they're not left behind the race. Meanwhile, Lakay and I are like these two slow turtles, taking time to go to God-knows-where. Which brings me to ask, does anybody really know where this race is heading?

3. There are some things you can ram down their throats.
Like vegetables. And repeatedly teaching them to say please and thank you. And giving them a regular routine - time limits on tv time and pc games, no-tv rule while having dinner, prayer time. While children need enough freedom to grow and explore, they also need enough force to limit them so they don't get lost.

4. Laughter builds ego.
Promise, 5-minutes of continuous tickling and laughing can make your child get a sense of security that everything will be ok, that life is happy (an important thing to learn before the angst-ridden teenage years), and that there are people who will give the world to make them know they are loved.

5. Don't rush them.
Something that Lakay and I often do wrong and end up paying for. When I wrote my papa about how our son is having difficulty sleeping in his own bedroom, he told me that we ourselves were not rushed about this, so we shouldn't force him too soon. (I do remember staying with them until the two younger sisters threw me out). I'm just not talking about sleeping in another room. There were other things - lifting food from his own spoon, potty training, zipping up his pants and jacket- I say I rushed him into these things because I was worried that he was the only kid his age who hasn't learned them yet. Until I realized that rushing him made him feel alone in his situation, that no one was there to share his frustrations with him. Since then, Lakay and I became more introspective about our own projections and anxieties. Growing up is supposed to be his own struggle, not ours. It's not about us, it's about him. We should be there to root for him.

So here are all 5 of them. Give me one more year, and I might be able to add one or two more.

Enter the world of Narnia

Reading time has been my most sacred bonding moment with my son (by that I mean since the time he was this little one snuggled up in my womb).

Recently, I decided to take our reading to another level, which means longer stories with lesser pictures.  And of course for this I must start with no other than  my all-time favorite book series, The Chronicles of Narnia. 

I learned about this series (rather late)  through a good colleague of mine in Ateneo. It's a classic for children. And, I must argue, for adults too. (That colleague of mine said that he reads the series almost every year!) 

Now, considering that this was really a far step ahead from Dr. Seuss, Clifford and Winnie the Pooh, I expected that the little lad would be bored and restless in the beginning. So I first gave him a "summary" of the story (with emphasis on the magic, the wickedness of the White Witch, and the power of Aslan). And thinking that that wasn't enough, I promised him that we will watch the movie version as soon as we finish one book.

It worked. This week, we started reading every night at least one chapter  of book 2, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. My boy is so hooked, he can't wait to get to the part where Aslan comes in. At every end of the chapter, he would run to his dad to report on the story. (A good sign he is following -- which I'd doubt sometimes because of all the moving and singing while I read). He 's so into it, he's had The Silver Chair and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader lined up for the next weeks.  My oh my, he even told me tonight that he doesn't want to see the movie yet until we finish reading all the other books. 

I'm so happy. My boy has entered a whole new world of adventure. I know it's just a matter of time before we start reading Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings. 

To Narnia! (And beyond!) 

the beginnings of sainthood

Have I already mentioned here that I just love, simply luuuuhv my son's bestfriend E? Apart from the fact that he looks adorable, he also has the heart of a saint. I know I wrote days ago that he has this heart-warming "motherly" way of loving my son, but he surprised me again recently about his generosity. Last time I checked, kids this age still wallow in their "reptilian rationality"--territorial, and highly self-regarding--in plain english, they tend to forget their best friends especially when before a yummy doughnut with chocolate topping.

I thought that this would apply to E when he came to our home one play afternoon, carrying with him a doughnut from his mom. Since there was only one, I tried to prevent a "me-too" crying scene by making sweet butter sandwich for my little one. After setting everything up on the table, E asked me to slice his doughnut. Again, the individualistic-modern-steeped-world brain that I had simply interpreted his request as that of a child who wanted his doughnut cut down to bite-size pieces for his own sake.

And then! And then he gestured to give the other half I sliced to my little one.

While watching them eat their meryenda, I took a step back to marvel at what I had just witnessed. I was there when E randomly left his mom's hand to come home with us. I don't recall his mom telling him anything about sharing his food. So I thought that that act came as second nature to that boy.

I'm simply in awe of the way his parents are raising him.

So this means that thinking beyond oneself starts earlier than many of us have been misled to think.

Hmmm, this makes me say that the Filipino expression, "Hayaan mo lang silang maging bata" needs to be re-thought. I don't think it should be read as: Children are naturally selfish. Let them be.

No. Here I learned that we should never underestimate the goodness that children are capable of. Never.

On friends and bullies

One of the things I have to reckon with as a mom of a pre-schooler is the reality of bullies. This came to our son on the first day of his summer school when an angry friend pushed him on the sandbox, leaving his face burrowed on the sand. He probably valued that friend a lot, for what else can explain the trauma he had from that experience? It was so grave that there was no talking him into going back the next day. Months have passed and yet the mere mention of the summer school’s name would make him tense all over. The most painful thing for me was how he kept the memory of that experience all to himself. He only got the courage to talk about it last January, about 6 months since that dreadful day.

He narrated the story in clear detail, from how painful the sand was to his eyes to how long the bus ride home took before he could run to hug me. He cried a bit after his story. Lakay and I can only console him from our end.

I knew that one day this would come. At one point, I seriously considered home-schooling him just so I could shield him from all these. But then something happened last week that made me less worried and more hopeful.

My little one has this new friend, E, from Ecuador. They go to the same class together, live in the same building, and have been inseparable for quite some time now. Last week, Lakay brought them to this big kiddie land called Sportoase. While on the bus, my little one suddenly remembered his sad summer school story and related it to his friend. According to Lakay, E's eyes were really filled with sympathy. He even rubbed my little one’s back, the way adults would when they console each other. Then E said, (in Flemish), next time say “Niet doen! Niet doen! (Don’t do it!) or E's mama will get angry!”

I couldn’t help but smile when I heart this. I’m touched by the way four-year-olds could feel for the other, the way they can distinguish good friends from bad, and the unpretentious way they show how they care.

This moving story made me a see a bigger reality than that of bullies. I came home to the truth that school is, yes, a place where kids can get hurt, but it is also a place where good friendships are planted and nurtured. That whole reality should not be taken away from them.

Baby Steps

Announcing my little one’s accomplishment for the month:

“Look mummy, I can now…now... (looking down at his shirt) … botton up…(fingers busily toying with the last button)...my pajamas.”

The moment I heard this, I dropped what I was holding and ran to give him a big hug (with squeals of excitement, of course, and matching “I’m so proud of you anak!”)

You might say I am over-reacting. Not if you’ve watched him cry out of frustration for months simply because he couldn’t do this. And when the day came when he finally made it, you can’t help but call for a feast to celebrate such feat.

The joy of witnessing successes like this in a little child is beyond measure. This reminds me of an important lesson that I always forget: Every accomplishment begins with one baby step.

I tell myself this whenever I have a hard time getting up early to bring my son to school (baby steps…baby steps…baby steps…) or when I am so overwhelmed by deadlines (baby steps…baby steps…) or when I am about to do some self-loathing again for not being keen about my health (baby steps…).

What these children can really teach you!

Try it. It really works!

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one baby step!

how to make a little child happy without really trying

Lakay and I definitely cannot afford a Disney-esque entertainment for our little one's birthday party, but I wasn't bothered by that from the start. That's because I've discovered a long time ago that it doesn't take much for the little one to be really happy.

So yesterday, we threw a party for him. On the menu was: tuna pasta puttanesca (for the biggies) and fried chicken wings; shanghai lumpia, donated by a friend and sweet spaghetti (for kids) cooked by the same friend; some appetizers and cupcakes for dessert.

This rather simple menu was overcompensated for by guests who were so game to the crazy ideas of the little one's parents.

First, we huddled them together in the function room of our building, and told them to be quiet until the little one would open the door with his mom. Once opened, everyone should shout "Surprise!!!" and sing "Happy birthday..." Of course, this sounds so simple, if we were talking to kids. But we were actually instructing PhD students from their late 30's to 60's. Gladly, these guys were just so into it too.

his bashful smile after being surprised right at the door

After the light snack came the opening of presents. One by one, Each "kiddie" adult had to sit on the floor with the little one while he opened the present they gave him. Each had his or her turn of being either the object of ridicule or of praise depending on the little one's reaction to the present he got.

But everyone was praised and hugged well. It's because I knew that it wasn't so much about what he got, but more about the idea of opening presents. This is why instead of buying him one expensive gift, Lakay and I bought him many small delights that we can wrap separately.

So there you have it. Four hours of fun with a budget-friendly menu, and with the priceless contributions of people who knew from the start that throwing birthday parties for kids is first of all about the happiness of the celebrant himself.

I feel glad that I learned this principle early, while I'm a still a young parent. Perhaps, even when the day comes that we can actually afford a Disney party for my little boy, I would still rather do something like what I did yesterday. Besides, all it takes to have my boy smiling from ear to ear is a careful knowledge of what really makes him happy. And that entails lot of love and hands-on care.

in their own terms

Everyone probably has this inexplicable fear of something --heights, spiders, cockroaches--you name it. My little one has this strange fear of alarm clocks.

We had a digital one last month, the numbers colored and all. But far from being amused, the little one was totally afraid of it. He was so scared that he had to dock his head every time he passed through the side table drawer where it stood. Lakay had to hide the clock in a corner and go through the hassle of pulling the plug in the morning so it would stop terrorizing the little one every time he would look at it (which he always did since the day that clock was placed there).

Because I couldn't stand seeing him afraid like this, I finally decided to get rid of that clock.

But Lakay just had to buy a new one today, being anal that he is. In fairness to him, he made an effort to find something that couldn't possibly terrorize a little boy. He finally settled with a plain black round clock which now stands in the same corner where the old one once stood.

When we were about to go to bed, the little one noticed this new creature sticking out on the side table drawer. When I told him that that is our new alarm clock, his eyes was once again filled with fear.

Not wanting him to end up running away from his fears, I told him that he should learn how to face them. I said, "If you're afraid of something, just say, 'Grrr, I am not afraid of you!'" He then comically followed and said instead: "Grrr, I AM afraid of you." Of course he got some tickling after that.

Seeing that he can now joke about it, I simply thought that that fear was settled. So we went on with our routine: bedtime story, prayer, sing lullaby. Somewhere in between, he suddenly turned quiet and then said something that took me by surprise:

If you're afraid of something, just say 'Mummy, I'm scared.

For a moment, I didn't get what he was trying to say. And then he added, "I'm scared of the alarm clock. I want you to hide it."

After a lot of effort of trying to assuage his fears, I finally came up with this silly idea of re-naming this object of fear by saying that it's just a clock, not an alarm clock. I think I convinced him (for now), because after that, he finally went to sleep.

What did I learn from my son today?

I learned that, yes, I shouldn't protect him from his fears...BUT if I want to be a good mom, I should also respect his own time, his own pace. What I tried to do today was rush him into it. I was too aggressive that I put words into his mouth. I was being one of those stupid adults who simply dismiss children's fears as nonsense.

Meanwhile, I must think of a good excuse I can give as soon as that dreaded alarm sets off tomorrow morning.

i'm angry at the paper!

The little one wasn't charming at all to the people at mass today. So grumpy, till it wasn't cute anymore. He glared at smiling strangers, pushed chairs and even lashed out on a more little friend. In no time, he felt the firm hand of his dad who carried him out to the garden. When asked why he was so grumpy and rude, he simply said, "I'm angry at the paper!"
He was referring to that small piece of paper he was writing his name on. If you look at the paper, there's nothing in it that would justify all that temper. I then had a feeling it was because of something else.
True enough, when he was ready to go back and say sorry to his friend and titas, he confessed to one of them, "Someone destroyed the sticker in my doodle board at home. I cried."
I already had the inkling that the weird behavior was because of that. He did cry a few minutes before we went to church. But I didn't realize that it affected him very badly -- and that he was capable of displacing his anger on other things.

I learned from a psychologist friend a few months ago that children still have difficulty in articulating their feelings. That's why you have to help them say it by sometimes volunteering the words for them. Otherwise they displace it on other things or people.

But what I find to be so fascinating, and a bit worrying, is how things, events, words, can affect children as young as my little one in ways we can't fathom.

At least this gives us more reason to be kinder in admonishing them. Like every ordinary person, they are also fighting a hard battle deep within.