Womze - Cross Cultural Parenting

This evening, as I played with the kids and the baby, my niece (6 year old Super Boy) beckoned me aside.  The expression on his face was serious.  He cast a quick glance in Baby Brother’s direction and told me “You need to be careful with this boy or else he’ll lick your face”.  Having delivered his warning, he returned to play. 

I could appreciate his concern as I’ve had to rescue Darling Angel from Baby Brothers saliva attack a number of times.  On one ocassion they were playing together, I thought, until I heard Darling Angel crying.  “Baby Brother leave me alone.  Please leave me alone”, she cried.  There were tears running down her face and she appeared to be highly distressed. 
“What’s the matter?”, I asked her.
“Baby Brother is touching me and Katie with mouth hands”, she wailed.  Katie is her doll.  Baby Brother was pulling up on Darling Angel and trying to grab her doll.  And indeed, his hands have been in his mouth and there’s even a trail of saliva hanging off his lips, threatening to drop on his sister’s lap.  The boy is teething.

The scene is comical but I try not to laugh.  “What are mouth hands”, I inquired.
“He put his hand in his mouth and he’s trying to touch me and Katie.  Gross!!”, she continued in an anguished cry.

Baby Brother laughed.

I noticed that there was some communication gap between the two.  The more his sister cried, the more Baby Brother giggled and tried to reach for the doll.  Does this gap disappear once he begins to understand words, or does it last longer?  I wonder.

As amusing as the scene was, I knew that Darling Angel could easily shove her baby brother but chose not to.  She tried to reason with him instead, perhaps because some instinct prevented her from shoving a helpless baby.  So I removed Baby Brother and his mouth hands from the scene and I commended Darling Angel for enduring his attack.

Earlier this week, Darling Angel asked me “what does the orange light do?”, referring to the traffic lights.  “It tell us to get ready to stop”, I replied.  “Oh” she said reflecting on my answer.

The following day she asked “what does the blue light do?”.  “There’s no blue light”, I replied.  “There is!  I saw it.  I saw it” she said emphatically.  “What does it do?!”

“I don’t know”, I shrugged, not in the mood for an argument.

Darling Angel perked up.  “I think it tells us get ready to go” she declared.  “That’s what it tells us”.  I did not disagree.

Today, her attention turned to “Do not enter” signs.  “What does enter mean mommy?” she asked.  Trick question?  I wondered.  “It means to go in” I said.  “Then what does do not enter mean?”.  “Not to go in”, I replied.  Apparently, she just wanted to verify her understanding of the street sign.

“So mommy, when you see ‘do not enter’, you should not go in there.  Okay?  Because ‘do not enter’ means that we shouldn’t go in there, so you shouldn’t go that way.  Okay mommy?”

Well, I’m grateful to Darling Angel for interpreting road signs for me.  With her in the backseat, I won’t be driving in the wrong direction on one-way streets.

About a decade ago, I remember observing people with young kids complain that the kid was asking too many questions.  Some even yell at the kid to keep quiet.  I cringed whenever I observed a child’s inate curiosity being crushed.  It’s a child’s purview to ask as many questions as she desires and that’s how she would learn about the world around her and eventually do great things.

I still support this philosophy.  In theory.  In practice I’m ready to snap!  My four and half year old Darling Angel’s inquiries are transitioning from Questions to Interrogations.  And they’re mostly concentrated during the 15 minute drive home from the daycare.  Every question must be answered…to her satisfaction.  And every advice must be accepted with thanks or declined with reasons.

Did you like milk when you were a baby?  Did you drink a lot of milk or a little milk?  Did you drink it all the time?  Did your great great grandmother feed you?  You liked custard?  Was it baby custard?  Before you started going to the office, did you go to school?  Did you have any friends in school?  What are your friends names?  Did you play games with them?  What type of games did you play?  What else did you do?  You read books?  Which books did you read?  Did you have birthdays?  When you were little, did you have a cake at your birthday?  Yesterday when it was your birthday, you didn’t have a cake.  Why?  You’re supposed to have a cake at your birthday, okay?  Will you have a cake next time it’s your birthday because you’re supposed to have a cake?  Did you have a sister a long time ago when you were a little girl?  Yes, I know aunty is your sister, but what about when you were a little girl?  (Getting frantic)  I know, but I’m talking about a long long time ago.  Oh, she’s still your sister when you were a little girl?  Who else was your sister when you were a little girl?

I feel tired.  I feel like I need to mentally recover from my day at work.  And ignoring the questions is not an option because it just gets repeated over and over at increasingly higher pitches (until it turns into a cry).  It’s even worse when Baby Brother is whimpering in his seat as she just speaks louder to compensate.  So far, I rein in my impulse to yell for some quiet.  And I patiently (I pray for more patience) answer every single question…to her satisfaction.