Solving for Why

Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked "why."  ~Bernard Baruch


With one little word... three little letters... the conversation I had anticipated, dreaded, feared was underway. And once that little word... those three little letters.. were spoken, they hung in the air like a thick fog.

And I was speechless. I felt powerless.

So many questions

"Why?"

How many times a day does she ask that question? Dozens. But never, had she asked this.

She finally wanted to know where Popsie is. My dad.

"Where is he?," she inquired when we brought up his name for the thousandth or so time. Has never happened before. We always talk about him. His name is part of the conversation pretty much every time we mention my family. Or my wife's family for that matter. We've made a point of it. Just last week we were looking at swing sets at an outdoor store and she thought it was just a really big park (Good thing because I don't think we're getting one), and at one point she asked me, "Daddy, did Popsie used to take you here when you were a boy?"

My dad at our wedding 12/7/02

And I told her yes.

This, however, was obviously different.

My wife answered her, "He's in heaven, honey."

And then... "Why?"

I ask myself that same question almost every day. Why? Why isn't he here? Why is he missing all of this? His youngest granddaughter. Our house... and everything I've needed him to fix. Why did this happen to us, so soon after our wedding? Why did it have to happen to him? He had just bought a bag of discount Christmas decorations at Target that day for crying out loud. Does that sound like a man who was ready to die?

Maybe that's why I didn't have the answer. Thankfully my wife was poised to respond. As always. She said pretty much the only thing you could say. "Because God wanted him in heaven."

Beauty & the Beast doesn't dance around death

And that was it... until minutes later when we reached the point in her Beatuty and the Beast book that she was "reading" to us, where the beast dies. (And I was worried bout Tangled).

My wife was surprised she had made the connection so soon after the conversation about my dad. Or did she? We never said he had died. We told her he was in heaven. That God wanted him. That he's her guardian angel. "Do you know what it means when someone dies," my wife cautiously pressed her. "That's what happens when bad guys hurt you," she said.

Freakin' movies.

She wasn't interested into getting philosophical. She wanted to move on and read books. So we dropped it. Until the next "why."

I might not ever have the answer, but at least we've started the conversation.

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The End of the Innocence

"We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by, and the tall grass wave in the wind." -Don Henley

There is a fine line between sheltering your child and protecting her. I want to protect her for as long as I can.

Bad role models...

I don't want her to know about the bad things in the world just yet. The evil, the death, the trash on the show "Jersey Shore." Trust me... I grew up there. I'm proof you can survive the Jersey Shore but not become "Jersey Shore."

...good Halloween costumes

She's too young.

One day I came home from work and my daughter was watching a movie. It was a rainy day and she had had blood taken earlier in the day, so I was fine with her watching a movie. I wasn't fine with what she was watching.

"Tangled."

When this movie came out in theaters, we heard from some other parents that it was scary. That it had some adult themes.

"Tangled:" Appropriate for 4 year-olds?

But there it was, on my television.

I bit my tongue because my wife was having a stressful week at work and staying late for a third day in a row. I did this... for two days. (And I thought giving up chocolate for Lent was a challenge).

When I finally brought it up, nonchalantly, I told my wife my concern. She then revealed to me that she approved the movie. But why?

A few days later, at dance class, I was talking to a group of parents about "Tangled" as our daughters pranced and pirouetted in the next room. None of them seemed to think it was that bad at all. In fact, they all thought it was great for four year-olds. That night I watched it with her. We both enjoyed it. It was fine... except for the end, with the stabbing someone with a knife and the throwing someone else out of a window.

Am I being too protective?

Maybe. Maybe not...

In a year and a half, she'll be in Kindergarten. Then, first grade. That's when those rotten older kids will get a hold of her. Tell her there's no Santa. Tell her mommy and daddy are going to die some day. Tell her God knows what else.

The time for her to be carefree is running out. The time when her only concerns are what outfits she's dressing her Lammies in, how many green beans she has to eat to be finished, and what crayon to color with. I cherish this time and hold on to it tightly.

The treasure she unearthed

Later that same night that my wife and I had that conservation, my daughter was rummaging through one of our bookshelves. It aggravates us to no end when she sneaks into the guest bedroom and plays with our books because of the mess it makes and the potential harm she could do to one of the books. On that night her rummaging unearthed a treasure: a homemade bookmark from my nephew. He was four years-old at the time. My daughter's age now. It was inside a book that my sister - his mother - had given me for my college graduation. It was from a time where my nephew was still a blonde haired kid running around and making us laugh. Just like my daughter. Innocent. Perfect. Unaffected.

Now, he's the one in college. I almost broke down.

Trust me... no child of mine is going to be soft. But I'll keep her world as safe and peaceful as I can for as long as I can.

**We use this site to help determine whether a movie is age appropriate. It's says "Tangled" is ok... so maybe I'm just a big pain in the a$$: http://www.commonsensemedia.org/

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