I've never been a fan of lying to children, though I have been known to "lie by omission" in choosing what to discuss with my daughter. I want her to know that life can be tough and that there are those who will experience devastating traumas (like earthquakes) that aren't part of her daily existence. But at the same time, I do feel she's entitled to keep some of that short-lived innocence she now possesses. When I was her age, my grandfather died and I remember not really grasping what had happened and not being allowed to go to his funeral. My daughter is growing up in a different era and already knows more about things like death, illness and world tragedies than I ever knew at such a young age. I'm not sure if this is due more to the fact that she's a child of the 21st century, or the fact that I lived at a time where parents found it easier to shield their children from such unpleasantness.
I see value in both schools of thought and I would never share anything with my children that I thought was unnecessarily frightening or completely age inappropriate. When we discuss death, we don't talk about burial (there is no need for her to know about that part of the process yet -- I personally don't even love to think about it), but rather, the potential survival of the soul, and the memories that outlive us, even after our bodies no longer function. She thinks that only old people die and I have yet to correct her because I don't want her worrying about her own mortality before she even starts Kindergarten. For the most part, this hasn't been a problem -- except for the time that we called my 92-year-old grandmother to wish her a happy birthday and this was the message that Eva left on her machine:
"Hi Nana Bea. Happy Birthday. I hope you don't die soon cause I know you're really old now. Bye!"
Eeeek!
So, where do you draw the line? My kids are too young to have heard about 9-11 yet, but I know that day is coming and I'm not sure exactly how to explain that one to them. I'd venture to say that discussing events like that never even entered my parents' realm of thought. Thankfully, I have some time to mull it over. I can't imagine what the kids who saw it happen live must have felt or how it has effected them in the grand scheme of things.
Here in Atlanta, there is an exhibit celebrating the life of the late Princess Diana. Eva saw a poster promoting it the other day and asked me about her. I told her that Diana was a real live princess who lived in London. Eva asked if she still lived there and I told her no, that sadly she'd died in a car accident. She followed with her normal questions: How did the accident happen? Where was she when it happened? Did she die right away? How did the accident kill her? I answered all of them as best I could without going into unnecessarily gruesome detail. Then she asked how old Princess Diana was when she died. I know the answer to this because truth be told, it freaks me out a little bit that she was actually younger than I am now. But Eva knows how old I am and I saw no need to scare her so I told her I didn't know. Should I have been more honest? Maybe. But I believe my daughter is still at an age where her princess fantasies deserve to be kept intact, even if they are just make-believe.
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