"But How do the Egg and the Seed Get Together?"

In my last post, we looked at ways to answer children's earliest questions about how babies are made. A mom was worried about sharing too much information, especially when kids get past the preliminaries about eggs and seeds and really want to know how that seed and egg got together.  Again, the answer that's right for a child (at any developmental stage) is the short/true answer to his particular question.  If he weren't ready for the answer, he probably wouldn't be framing the question.

If he asks how the seed and egg meet, I would say something like "Mommies and Daddies have a very loving feeling about each other and they want to be super-close.  Sometimes when they are alone together and hugging and kissing they get so excited and happy that something amazing happens.  The Daddy's penis goes into the Mommy's vagina.  That's how the seed from Daddy got together with the egg in Mommy – to make you and then to make your sister."

One of my very favorite books on this topic is Peter Mayle's Where Did I Come From?  Check it out and see if it fits the bill.  It may be too wordy for most 4-year-olds, but the preschooler or school-age child who likes to take his time over books will probably enjoy it.  It's for kids who are already asking all of these questions; reading it before that has happened would be a case of major overload! I should add that this book isn't every parent's cup of tea. It's very funny and it's irreverent and quite explicit.  The pictures are cartoony. You will have no trouble finding it at your library – I promise it's the most tattered and dog-eared one in their entire collection. Grownups tend to prefer pastel-hued, lyrical books that are long on "we wanted a baby soooooo much" and short on info. Kids, on the other hand, love this one. 

But why a silly book? I think children – even those ready for the facts of life – are pretty baffled by the whole thing once you explain it to them.  (In looking back, I sure was.) It's a mystery of human development that we're curious and ready to understand how sex works long before we get any inkling that it might be a fun thing to do.  So the lighthearted approach gets young kids where they live.  In my next post I'll provide an annotated list including other titles I like to recommend.

Back in the day, parents had “The Talk” with a child. Once. It was a hurried, awkward lecture instead of a dialogue. Thank goodness that day is past. The conversation about sexuality is is a periodic, extended one that may have long stretches of empty space, while things are percolating. Remember the “building” metaphor – you're creating a structure, so always go back and check your foundation. That means when your child returns to the topic, have him tell you what he already knows. You can correct any misinformation he may have accumulated in the meantime. (Believe me, it happens.) You're laying a groundwork of trust that will in time take you to conversations about puberty, dating, safe sex, birth control and beyond.   Let your child lead.  Your open attitude and his curiosity will govern the timing and nature of the questions, naturally cuing good answers.

"Where Do Babies come From?"

Dear Susie,
Our daughter was born three months ago. Now our son, age four, is asking all sorts of questions about where babies come from. I think pretty soon he's going to start wondering how she got in there in the first place! I don't know how to explain this. Is he ready? How much info is too much?

Dear Parent,
Your son is right on target, developmentally. Parents are often surprised to learn that, starting as early as four or five, kids begin to think about "where did I come from?" and "where am I going?"  (Or as Woody Allen would say, "sex and death.")  They begin to think outside of the present moment and to be conscious of having a past ("yesterday we had ice cream") and a future ("my birthday will be in June.")  They hear people talk about "before you were born."  (Before I was born??  Wow!!)  That gets them thinking big thoughts.  And asking big questions.

When your child launches into any of the so-called “Tender Topics” (e.g., sex, death, divorce, money, understanding differences) you are beginning a long, episodic conversation that will deepen and widen as you go.  Even the biggest, most complex building starts brick by brick. I think a good rule of thumb is to give the shortest true answer you can give.  "True" because you want to build your structure on a sound foundation and "short" because that way you can't overload them with information.  If your short answer doesn't provide enough info (or lacks the desired info) kids will come back...a moment later, a week later, a year later...with more questions.  If you can be easy and comfortable with these first conversations, it's as if you are leaving the door ajar for the next installment. Being evasive or changing the subject is like slamming the door. Kids might go elsewhere for information.  As you can imagine, that can be problematic.

There are a lot of reasons why you might find this whole topic really embarrassing and awkward.  Here's an ice-breaker:  tell your child what's going on for you. You might say, "I didn't talk about this with my own parents, so it's kind of strange for me.  But I really want you to ask me questions and I really want to give you good answers."  Children are super-astute about sensing our shyness or reluctance, but they can be surprisingly generous about cutting us some slack if we just let them know we're operating under a constraint.  Being honest will help them understand the discrepancy between your words (“I want us to talk about this”) and your demeanor (“I'd rather be having root canal.”)

For starters, kids are usually OK with "You grew in my uterus (tummy) until you were ready to come out."  After a while (moment, week, year) they usually start to wonder how the baby got in there and/or how it comes out.  Short and true?

     "You started from a tiny sperm (like a seed) in Daddy's body and a tiny egg in Mommy's body."

     "You came out from a hole between my legs. That's my vagina."
I want to stop right there and say "no fair using the C-section cop-out!"   I'm not sure why some parents find it easier to tell their kids that the doctor used a knife to open Mommy's tummy than "You came out of a hole between Mommy's legs"...but they often do!  If your child arrived by C-section, I'd give a 2-part answer:  "Well, most babies come out of a hole between the Mommy's legs, but we were having a little trouble getting you out that way...so the doctor helped by opening my tummy here and lifting you out."  That way, your child has the standard scientific info plus his own special story that explains the scar on your abdomen.

You're absolutely right that "how the egg and seed got together" will probably be your son's next question. More about this in my next post.

Changing Preschools

Dear Susie,

For a number of reasons, we need to find a new preschool for our son. How do you suggest we manage this transition? So far, we have visited a few prospective schools. Since I can't say in advance whether I will like the school or not (or whether my son will get in!) I have just been telling him “Today we're going to visit Toby's (or Hillary's, or Kelsey's) school.” Is that the right approach? This whole thing has me so upset and worried!

Dear Parent,

What a good question! Change is hard for a young family. Goodbyes and hellos are poignant, exciting, sad and challenging.

I think a week or two is plenty of advance warning to give a young preschooler when he is going to switch schools. Less than a week doesn't provide enough “percolation time” for the new idea to take hold, and more than two weeks is an eternity in the life of a very young child. If your son is the easygoing type, I'd lean towards two weeks. For the child who tends to worry about things, one week of hand-wringing is plenty! The children's librarian at your local library can introduce you to some topical books to read to him during this transition (in moderation, and if he seems interested.)

See if the “old school” will allow some kind of goodbye event on his last day. Most do – because it will provide the kind of processing all the kids need, both the child who is leaving and those whom he leaves behind. The whole event should be short, sweet and simple – maybe some cupcakes, taking photos, talking a bit at circle time about his new school and what he will especially miss about his old school. The “old” teacher can probably help set this up with you. Just because kids are resilient about change (usually more than we are!) doesn't mean that having the opportunity to process change by means of goodbyes and mementos isn't important.

If you know any families at the new school, try to set up a playdate or two in advance. (Sometimes the new school can help with this kind of matchmaking. They will know exactly which kid could use a new friend, or who might warm to the experience of being the old hand who gets to show a newbie the ropes.) It really helps on Day #1 to see a familiar face! But if possible, let him continue to socialize with a friend or two from the old school. This lets your child know that friends aren't replaceable. A special friend is a special friend, and we accumulate them throughout our lifetime. These relationships can transcend time and distance. If your son talks about his old school in a way that lets you know he's “homesick,” just let him feel entitled to those feelings without offering false cheer or rationalizing the change: “You miss your old friends and Miss Terri and the bunny. Saying goodbye is hard. Sometimes it makes us feel sad. Would you like to look at pictures from your goodby party...or draw a picture to send them?”

I really like your approach to visiting prospective schools: “We are visiting so-and-so's school today.” It's great to project as blasé and casual an attitude as you can possibly muster. (For as long as we can, let's protect our kids from that awful “sweepstakes” aspect of school applications!)  If you are still weighing options or feeling anxious about where he will go to school next, please share these feelings when he isn't around. Kids are very susceptible to parents' worries, and this really shouldn't be their problem.

In closing, while you are thinking “goodbye...worries...sadness” try also to think “opportunity...fresh start...hello!”

Why Do Toddlers Say “No” All the Time?

Recently, during one of my toddler classes, the inevitable question about “No!” came up. Toddlers say it so often. It's discouraging, it's exasperating, it's annoying. I encouraged the parents to brainstorm what they thought the toddlers meant when they said “No!”  Then I added a few of my own.  I hope that hearing this from the child's point of view may shed some light. Here’s what we came up with.

You say ”no” a lot. (And I mean really a lot!)  I'm just imitating you. That's how I learn just about everything!  Maybe you could develop different ways of setting limits:

            “The sand stays down”

            “Fluffy likes to be touched gently like this – yes! Just like that!”

            “That doesn’t look safe to me.  Let’s move over to the carpet...wow, that works much better.”

A big plus to intervening this way is that you’re giving me information.  You’re telling me what you do want instead of just telling me what you don’t want.   You’re showing me alternate behaviors.  And you may even be teaching me why something is a “no.”  Consider that it may be a good idea not to wear out the word “no” – you may need it to stop me suddenly and forcefully in an emergency.

I love power words! When I say “Baba,” milk appears. Shrieking “Mine!” makes my big sister back off. All I have to do is ask “More!” and my grandfather will indulge me in yet another round of our favorite song. “No!” is a power word too. It brings things to a halt. It makes eyes pop and heads spin. I love that! Please try to stay calm and state what you think I mean:

            “Sounds like you're sad to leave the park. I'm sad too! But I have to get dinner started.”

You've thrown in a little empathy and re-stated the necessity of leaving behind something we are both enjoying. Your next move is to follow through. Over time, I'll learn to accept the fact that we can want something and not get it...without falling apart and without taking it personally.

I truly don't know what you're talking about.  Maybe you’re referring to something by a name I don’t recognize.  For example, if I loved the model of the wooly mammoth at the Page Museum and I called it the "big-big effent," I won't have a clue what you mean when you say “Would you like to go to the Page and see the wooly mammoth?” Maybe you could say something like “Remember how much you liked the 'big-big elephant' at the museum? We're going to go see it again.” We can straighten out the terminology later.

You've interrupted me. Despite a reputation for having short attention spans, we toddlers can be quite riveted to things that interest us. (What captures my fancy may just not capture yours.) A five minute warning can be very useful in “getting ready to get ready:”

            “Sweetie, in five minutes I'm going to tell you about our plans for this morning.”

This piques my curiosity and helps me change channels to prepare for a transition. That way, I'm not caught completely off-guard by having to stop one thing and begin another.

I crave self-determination. The need for autonomy is my current passion. I want to do things myself and I get so frustrated when I'm not able. Please let me do as many things for myself that I can, even if I don't do them as neatly or efficiently as you could. And I need choices. Giving me a choice about which stuffed animal to take to the market might make me feel less oppositional about getting in the car to go there.

You asked me in question form, so I thought I had a choice. Parents have a funny habit of putting “OK?” at the end of a declaration, as in “We're going to the library, OK?” Maybe you want to sound less bossy, more genial. But a question is a question – and even though I can't say much yet, I recognize that upward inflection in your voice as an invitation to weigh in. So I say “no”...and you feel disappointed...and I feel tricked. As I said before, I love to have choices, but if I don't have a choice, let's not pretend I do. Tell, don't ask.

Maybe I want veto power. I don't yet have the ability to ask for many things, but at least I can try to exercise the power to negate. As I become more verbal and refine my ability to endorse and request – to use language in a positive way – you will see my urge to negate diminish.

I'm feeling trapped. Just as I have trouble requesting some of the things I want, I also have a difficult time articulating what I want to do. When we always have to do what you want/need to do, this underscores my feelings of impotence. Is it possible to spend some part of each day (even if it's just 15 or 20 minutes) simply noodling around and following my lead? That will satisfy some of my urge to direct traffic.

I have to be me. They don't call toddlerhood the “first adolescence” for nothing! So many of the same issues are at play in these two stages of life. I'm working very hard to individuate – to understand and promote myself as a person who is not part of you. If I say I don't want what you want, I get to feel very separate and distinct. I enjoy hearing you put this into words: “I like the red shorts and you like the blue shorts. Why don't you go ahead and wear the ones you like.”

I may not understand that it's for my own good. Let's say I'm playing outside and starting to shiver. You run in the house and come out with a jacket and try to wrestle me into it. To me, that's just an annoyance, an interruption. I haven't got an innate sense of the connection between my comfort and the jacket. Try breaking this down for me: “You look like you're cold. You're shivering and your teeth are chattering like this – BRRRRR. I'm going to put your jacket on you so you will feel warmer.”