There are no dumb questions

Our kids are very curious and easily intrigued little people. On one hand, it's exciting to me that they notice so many little details; they remind me to be like Ferdinand and smell those roses along life's path. On the other hand, it is a big responsibility to answer some of those questions. Who wants to be the kid that still thinks babies come out of your belly button when it's common knowledge that they come from your butt? (This may or may not be a reference to an actual exchange between myself and some girlfriends in my backyard the summer after 1st grade.)

We try to answer the boys’ questions as honestly as possible, keeping their age in mind but also knowing that if we don’t tell them the real story that they may just take the word of an uninformed friend.  And, perhaps, the answer they get from said friend could be worse than the truth. We get all kinds of questions, as all parents do, I suppose, and I’m sometimes surprised by the caliber or content of their inquiries… wondering what in the world provoked the curiosity to begin with. We can’t control every single thing they see in public from people we know or don’t know; I mean, for God’s sake, we don’t even let them watch our current President speak on tv or read an article about him for fear of having to explain some awful behavior by a grown person who should know better. Where we can, we try to keep these boys as innocent as possible for as long as possible, while leaving room for questions and honest answers. When at all possible, we opt for surrounding them with a lot of good role models and examples of good habits, hoping some of it will sink in and be their own normal as they grow and stretch. This is not to say we don't have "oh crap, what have I done?" moments... Sometimes I think maybe we could have explained something better or differently when they bring it up again later on and we cringe a little listening to the follow up questions.

Such was the case when a few weeks ago, the boys asked why someone put their middle finger up at someone and was it bad, why or why not, what did it mean… etc. I took a breath to think about how to respond when I decided they should probably know the answer as completely as I can provide it so that when they see it again, they understand that it’s not acceptable behavior to mimic… I channeled our previous “Why we don’t use the word ‘fuck’” discussion with them, and on went my explanation about how, when people throw a middle finger up at someone, it is disrespectful and rude. That didn’t satisfy the “What EXACTLY does it mean, mommy??” So I went on to explain that people are trying to say, “You’re dumb” with just their finger. "Yes, but Mommy, why does THAT finger say that instead of another finger or more than one finger? And why a finger at all? What if I use my toe?” I felt I had no choice in that moment but to just spell it out. “Well, it literally means, ‘Up Yours’ basically.” Knowing “what does THAT mean?” was coming, I went on, feeling the proverbial ice that I was skating on splintering and spidering out on all sides of me… “Sometimes people aren’t very nice and either don’t choose their words well or don’t express themselves the right way. They don’t use their tools that we’ve talked about to think about something and then react the best way and then they end up hurting someone’s feelings."  I see frustration and irritation coming over their faces, as though they’re about to explode with, “WE KNOW, MOMMY! You tell us this ALL THE TIME, Mommy!” But they don’t say it. So I continue with "And sometimes they do it because their own feelings have been hurt by someone else who was being rude.” Cautiously, internally cringing at what I’m telling my little sponges, hoping I’m not screwing this up, I further explain what they've been waiting for. “They put up their middle finger to say, ‘Your opinion doesn’t matter, or it’s dumb’ or ‘I don’t like how you’re acting to ME’ and ‘Up Yours’ is basically telling them to put this finger up your butt because that’s how little you matter to me right now.’” I think I might have cringed outwardly even as the words came out of my mouth. What. The F. Did. I. Just. Say.  But I’m doing the right thing… right? I’m being honest. I’m telling them what someone else might tell them but in a more diplomatic, educational way… right? Or should I have avoided this whole topic and just hoped when they asked their friends that they didn’t know any better either and didn’t even imagine the real story…? Can we even win these battles?

So, the boys’ mouths opened wide, and I saw a slight smirk come over one of their faces like they’re going to bust out laughing but are just still in utter disbelief and don’t know if they’ll get in trouble for laughing or not. Just then, I can actually SEE the hamster running in its wheel through the changing expression of these impressionable boys' eyes, and EVEN MORE questions are forming. And, that’s the thing… their questions are always so detailed and so relentless… sometimes I feel I must have the most incessantly curious kids on the face of the Earth. I’m STILL unclear as to how to explain tampons to them, and I’m terrified on a daily basis that they’ll see that box again and reignite their insatiable interest and search for the truth.  Just then, a distraction. Whew! I think “Ok, we are out of the woods now. This has passed, and they are satisfied."  I remain unsure about how I handled the question, but it’s too late to change it, so whatever.  

A couple days later, the boys are calling me from the backseat with their tattling voices - you know the ones. They’re all yelling at once, and I can’t make out one person’s complete sentence. I hear something about Santi and then I hear “both” and I hear “middle fingers”. I look in the rear view mirror in time to see my sweet, innocent, little Santi angrily thrusting both middle fingers at everyone. And I just stare for a second, instantly blaming myself for somehow unintentionally sensationalizing my explanation since it’s clear that, in his anger, Santiago felt that he really needed his brothers to know he was SO pissed that it required shoving not 1 middle finger in their faces, but TWO. At the same time. It had the sort of "You can’t put BOTH of these up all of your butts fast enough!" passion to it. And I feel sure that if he had more than 2 hands, there would have been even more middle fingers flying around. After getting onto Santi and explaining better ways of dealing with his anger, I festered a little about where I went wrong. Clearly one of the older boys had explained the middle finger concept to their baby brother at some point, and I made a mental note to remind them later that their baby brother does what he hears and sees from them, so good choices are important.  Again, the moment passed, and I felt a little better later on thinking “It was just a little phase, and now we’ll be onto the next thing.” 

But then Dominic asked me tonight, “Mommy, who did the first middle finger to another person? Was it the man who shot Abraham Lincoln?” Boy, he is really stuck on that guy. But, again, I have another assignment… to get to the bottom of the history of the middle finger. And, when I do, hopefully it will settle this current fascination. In the meantime, if my 4 year old flips you a bird - or even a double bird, I’m really sorry (although you might have had it coming, so please just don’t give him a reason until I can fix this).

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