The Logic of Children
My friend’s daughter, Camilla, who I really hope grows up to be a scientist, shared this story, which cracks me up to visualize. Apparently, her parents had used the ‘don’t use bad language or we’ll have to wash out your mouth with soap’ threat. But, since none of the kids had problems in that direction, Mom and Dad never had to follow through on that one. Around the age of six, she got to wondering if soap really did taste so bad, or were her parents just trying to scare her? She slipped into the bathroom and gave it a try. Yes! It was awful. But, waits! There was a different kind of soap in the kitchen! Would that be as bad? She tried it. Yes! That was terrible too. She continued testing her hypothesis going through about five different kinds of soap before concluding that yes, soap tastes terrible.
Dave and I both had the same thought, “Did Catherine ever do that?” It sounded like something our daughter, Catherine would have done.
I gave her a call and asked.
“No, I never felt I needed to test the soap thing–I mean, I didn’t rinse my hands very well once and then ate a potato chip. That was enough. But I did test something else.”
“Uh oh. What did you do?”
“You know the movie A Christmas Story where the kid’s tongue gets stuck to the pole?”
“No! You didn’t!”
“No, I was smart enough not to do that. I got my glove wet and stuck that to the pole instead.”
Phew! Kudos to both girls for good logic, and bonus points to Camilla for perseverance. Also, for making me realize that however bad my day might be, at least I don’t have to eat soap.
Unfortunately human logic, especially when that logic is attached to a child, is sometimes faulty.
One example of this that still gives me a jolt happened when Catherine was about four. In her mind, she had a perfectly workable plan. We were living in an old house that had been subdivided into apartments. The verandah out front was a good 12 feet or so off the ground, but there was a wide brick wall about waist high all around it. Catherine’s best friend was Adam, also four, who lived next door. They were both good about not sitting or climbing on the wall, so I felt fine about letting them play out there. Luckily, I happened to look out the window one morning just in time to see Catherine standing on the wall ready to jump off. I ran out and grabbed her a second before she made the leap.
“Don’t jump off the wall!” I shrieked.
Catherine, much annoyed at having her fun spoiled, “Mommy! It’s fine! Adam was going to catch me!”
I looked over the wall at Adam aimlessly roaming around below us, totally oblivious, not that he could have caught her anyway.
Really, it’s a miracle that any of us survive to adulthood.
Dave and I both had the same thought, “Did Catherine ever do that?” It sounded like something our daughter, Catherine would have done.
I gave her a call and asked.
“No, I never felt I needed to test the soap thing–I mean, I didn’t rinse my hands very well once and then ate a potato chip. That was enough. But I did test something else.”
“Uh oh. What did you do?”
“You know the movie A Christmas Story where the kid’s tongue gets stuck to the pole?”
“No! You didn’t!”
“No, I was smart enough not to do that. I got my glove wet and stuck that to the pole instead.”
Phew! Kudos to both girls for good logic, and bonus points to Camilla for perseverance. Also, for making me realize that however bad my day might be, at least I don’t have to eat soap.
Unfortunately human logic, especially when that logic is attached to a child, is sometimes faulty.
One example of this that still gives me a jolt happened when Catherine was about four. In her mind, she had a perfectly workable plan. We were living in an old house that had been subdivided into apartments. The verandah out front was a good 12 feet or so off the ground, but there was a wide brick wall about waist high all around it. Catherine’s best friend was Adam, also four, who lived next door. They were both good about not sitting or climbing on the wall, so I felt fine about letting them play out there. Luckily, I happened to look out the window one morning just in time to see Catherine standing on the wall ready to jump off. I ran out and grabbed her a second before she made the leap.
“Don’t jump off the wall!” I shrieked.
Catherine, much annoyed at having her fun spoiled, “Mommy! It’s fine! Adam was going to catch me!”
I looked over the wall at Adam aimlessly roaming around below us, totally oblivious, not that he could have caught her anyway.
Really, it’s a miracle that any of us survive to adulthood.