The Parent Ren XVIII: Answering Tough Questions

I was making a peanut butter sandwich for my kid the other night when she asked me a tough question. It was a little startling because it wasn’t the kind of question one would get asked while making a peanut butter sandwich. But I guess these questions come up without a prompt, and definitely not on a schedule.

Now, I’ve been asked many tough questions throughout my life, and I’ve also had to explain difficult concepts to many people from different learning and experience levels. For example, I was about ten years old when I explained to my cousin how and why women menstruated. He asked this because he had found a used feminine hygiene product in his house. I remember how weird he was about the whole thing, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t weirded out because I always loved learning about biology. To me, menstruation is not a cultural or gender identity event. It’s a biological process humans undergo, and I didn’t have any issues explaining it to him.

But I’m probably going to leave that talk to my wife when it comes to our kid. Some things are better left explained from one woman to another, you know? This is not to say that single dads and male caretakers should not know about menstruation (and other biological processes) and how to talk about such things.

A few months ago, my kid and I had a discussion about Santa Claus. She said she suspected Santa Claus was not real, and that it was us — her parents — buying her the gifts for Christmas. “What do you think is the truth?” I asked.
“I think it makes more sense that you buy it,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Because it would be hard for just one guy to deliver all those gifts.”
“But what about magic?” I asked.
“Hmmm… No, it doesn’t make sense,” she added, holding her hand to her chin.

I’m kind of torn about these tough, existential questions, because I want to raise a critical-thinking child skeptical of fantastical claims. At the same time, I find solace and comfort in some of my beliefs that have zero tangible — or reproducible — evidence to them. When she asked me if I would look over her when I died, I told her that I would likely not, but that I was always going to be with her. “You have me in your genes, in the little lines of code that tell your body how to grow and will influence much of your life to come. You’re about half me and half your mom, so we will always be with you.” It broke my heart to see her cry at the thought of never seeing us again once we died. “But, who knows? Maybe we will see each other again. If we will or won’t, though… We gotta make the best of the time we do have here together.”

She’s such a happy-go-lucky kid that she was fine two minutes later.

Anyway, as I made the peanut butter sandwich the other night, she asked me if God was real. “What do you think?” I asked her. (You may have noticed this is my standard response to her. I want to know how she is thinking about a subject before I can formulate an answer.)
“I think he is,” she said. “But he’s invisible, so that’s sus.” (“Sus” is how the kids nowadays say “suspect.” I think she meant that it is “curious”?)
“Well, then he is,” I answered. “God is one of those concepts that we must answer for ourselves, and it is best when we come to the understanding on our own.”

She smiled and started eating the sandwich.

These conversations will not get easier with time. She is becoming more aware of the world around her, and that brings with it many questions she will ask. I think I may be prepared for most questions, but I’m sure she’ll come up with ways to throw me for a loop. Honestly, I look forward to that. I look forward to those moments where she and I will have more mature discussions, and I can pass on more wisdom than knowledge to her. (Yes, there is a difference.)

Perhaps the hardest part — and one that I am not looking forward to — is when her peers start flooding her with their views about the world, with subjective truths rather than objective facts. It’s going to be a tough time to get her to be an individual among the crowd. So better to start now with these hard conversations, answering these tough questions. Her future depends on it.

And a lot is going to depend on her.