I’m just not great with children. They try to demonstrate their artistic abilities and I kindly inform them that clouds are not purple. I try to imitate the sound a missile launcher might make and they ask me why I sound like such an angry kitten. They try to show off their latest ballet routine and I offer a semi-enthusiastic, “Nice. You are good.” But children are so innocently self-absorbed that I’m usually off the hook for a more imaginative response and they continue the rest of their talent showcase without interruption.
Still though, some people can relate to children more than others. I try my best to encourage their creative endeavors, as well as answer their 10 million questions without losing patience, but sometimes, there is just no good way to answer them.
Questions like “Are you a grown-up?”
There are two approaches to answering this question. The first being “Yes, I am a grown-up.” If you take this approach, brace yourself for faces of pure disappointment as you are no longer a prospective playmate. They practically paint you a banner with the words, “Welcome to the land of Old and Boring.” They know few grown-ups can pull off a believable Power Ranger these days. Wait — are Power Rangers still a thing? I told you: I struggle.
The other obvious approach is to answer “No, I am not a grown-up.” This answer can lead to a scary place. In this past I’ve answered this because I either wanted to sound like I can still be fun, but also because I just feel like a pretentious jerk answering any other way. I hope this feeling goes away or I’m afraid I’ll face a life of servitude for “Her Majesty Princess Sparkle.”
It’s really a lose-lose situation. But what I really can’t handle is the ol’ “What do you want to be when you grow up?” conversation. It always backfires. They have answers like “Oh you know — an actress, singer, musician, artist, writer and dancer.” Or boys: “An astronaut. Duh.” Then I answer “Well, I want to work in Public Relations with an emphasis in interpersonal communications” and I somehow lose them every time.
All I’m saying is that those of you who are actually going to be a veterinarian or an actress or an astronaut – you don’t even know the life of ease you’ve had this whole time. Children love you and understand you.
As for the rest of us, I suggest that you continue to express interest in their talent showcase as best you can. Try not to lose patience when 20 questions turns into 10 Million questions, and most importantly, stop trying to entertain them and let them entertain you.
I know this to be a fairly fool-proof method because of a recent conversation I had with an 8-year-old girl in which we were both conned into a baby-sitting situation neither of us were looking forward to. Before I had time to ask if she wanted to watch a movie or play a game, she lost no time with the first of her million questions. The conversation went a little something like this:
“Did you know I’ve recently met an owl?”
I unsuspectingly answered, “Who?”
She proceeded to just roll her eyes and mumble, “Make that two.”
I’m telling you – fool-proof.
