Never Lose Your Sense of Wonder...

Buddy Peanut lounging on the thermostat

The day after Thanksgiving, an elf (named Buddy Peanut by Ella and Sophia) comes to visit our house. Every night Buddy returns to the North Pole to report back to Santa Claus on our behavior and ends up in a different spot the next day.

A couple of weeks ago Ella, my 8-year-old, said, "Buddy's eyes look like they're painted on. Why are his legs sewn together?" She paused, looking pensive. "Dad, is Buddy real?"

"I don't ask questions," I replied, feeling the dubious eyes of my 8-year-old. "All that matters is what you believe."

Last year around Christmastime, I wrote about Ella's skepticism of a mall Santa, her first hint of doubt on the subject. With her questions about Buddy the elf, she might have taken another step toward a dream-dashing, reality-infused adulthood. I'm not naive; I know that all kids grow up and secrets eventually get divulged. So why did Ella's normal transition from idealism to realism make me feel so sad?

When we are young, we believe everything our parents tell us. To be successful adults, we need to make decisions based on logic and intellect. It's not always an advantage to accept everything at face value. When it comes to matters of faith, like Buddy Peanut's nightly rendezvous with Santa, rules go out the window.

Having watched my two daughters grow up for the last eight years, I've noticed that a large percentage of childhood is spent in a fantasy world. I am constantly dragged into the world of role-play and make-believe. While I don't always participate, I at least enjoy watching it. Ella and her 5-year-old sister, Sophia, escape into worlds without boundaries or limitations, unburdened by the anchors of reality.

Sometimes I watch them and realize that once their fanciful beliefs get shattered, they will never be the same again. I ask myself how they are going to manage in a world filled with tragedy, violence, greed and negativity, without the advantage of an easy escape.

Lately, I've realized two things: part of my role as a parent is to nurture the mysteries that make childhood magical. And more importantly, growing up shouldn't equate to losing one's sense of wonder.

Christmas spirit means more than Santa Claus being pulled by flying reindeer and bringing presents to every child in the world in one night. It is about sharing undying love, celebrating life and believing in something greater.

At Christmas, more than any other time, we need to trust our convictions. These notions can and should exist at any age. In order for us to live fulfilled lives, they should be strengthened, not weakened, over time.

Ella eventually stopped asking questions about Buddy. I overheard her talking to her sister that night. "Sophia," she began, "if Buddy hears us saying he might not be real, he might stop coming and tell Santa we don't believe." Sophia nodded passionately, and I knew right then the realities of adulthood would wait another year.

For me, too.

Merry Christmas.

Love Beats Money, Every Time

Ella came home from school excited to recount a story from one of her teachers.

"Mrs. Vesely visited a village in Africa where some of the poorest people live. And it turns out," Ella said excitedly, "they're really happy."

Tanya, my wife, challenged our third-grader. "Wouldn't it make sense that the more you have, the happier you would be?"

"No, it's not money that makes you happy. It's love," Ella replied.

"Did Mrs. Vesely tell you that?" Tanya probed.

Ella shook her head. "I figured it out on my own."

Ella stumbled upon a realization that may forever alter her view of life. At the risk of simplifying a complex issue, and to paraphrase the Beatles, love may indeed be all we need. Could it really be that simple?

Around holiday time, it's easy to get caught up in the cult of commercialism. Even if we make our yearly shopping pilgrimages strictly to buy for others, it's easy to get sucked into collecting things for ourselves, too. The barrage of advertisements tells us more is better, and it's hard to resist stockpiling our possessions.

I'm not against pumping funds into our struggling economy, and I'm certainly not against responsible gift-giving to loved ones and the less fortunate. The problem is when the tendency to buy gifts overtakes the desire for generosity of spirit, which is the true meaning of the holidays. It doesn't happen intentionally, but materialism has a way of transcending the meaningful by playing on our greed. While that new toy or necklace might give short-term happiness, it can never replace our need for quality time with one another.

A friend of mine and his wife in Chicago decided a few years ago that from now on at Christmas they would forgo gifts for each other. They donate the money they would have spent and instead volunteer their time and energy at schools and shelters. They give gifts that help their beneficiaries more than any wrapped present could, and they feel better. Emotions can't be quantified on a balance sheet.

Along the same lines, gifts can't provide love. No matter how much I love my television and my iPod, they don't hug back. When I die, I'll never remember what I got for Christmas in 2011, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember serving someone a hot meal or snuggling in bed with my kids on Christmas morning.

This discussion repeats itself every year because it's easy to get swept up in the holiday hoopla. I lament the absurd sales that begin at midnight and the unimaginable sums of money spent on gifts that go unused by Presidents Day. Every year, I vow to buy fewer gifts and to pay more attention to things like volunteerism, charity and human connection. Alas, I am a work in progress.

So given our insatiable desire for emotionless possessions, is it possible to be happy with only the bare necessities?

Only if Ella and the Beatles were right.

The Discipline Dilemma

The other day my 8-year-old daughter, Ella, was telling me about something that happened at school when Sophia interrupted her. Ella was indignant.

"Excuse me, Sophia, I was in the middle of speaking. Do not interrupt me," she said. After a breath she continued. "When I have kids, that's what I'm going to say. I'm going to discipline them."

Young children need constant guidance and, as Ella pointed out, discipline. There are many philosophies about teaching right from wrong. Having said that, Ella's comment brought to mind an interesting issue. What does discipline really mean?

For many of us, the D-word conjures images of snapping belts, raised voices and bottom spankings. But the Latin root of the word, discipulus, means student. Another variation, disciplina, translates to "instruction" and not, as is commonly thought, punishment.

My wife and I, like all other parents, deal with dozens of situations on a daily basis that require some form of teaching, correction and consequences. Some incidents are more dire than others (crossing the street without looking versus skipping chores) but all are important. There's a fine line between punishment and teaching, and all parents make a lot of mistakes.

In a 2010 national research poll from C.S. Mott Children's Hospital, 22 percent of parents said they likely are to spank their children, 88 percent choose to reason with their children, and 70 percent tend to take away privileges. And while each parent's choice is based on their own experiences and preferences, it is crucial to be informed before we act.

Many organizations, including the American Psychology Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics, advocate against the use of physical means for discipline, citing overwhelming evidence of negative consequences.

In 2002, the psychologist Elizabeth Thompson Gershoff, Ph.D, of the National Center for Children in Poverty at Columbia University, published an analysis based on 62 years worth of data.

She looked for associations between corporal punishment and 11 child behaviors and experiences. She found "strong associations" between corporal punishment and all 11 behaviors, only one of which was deemed desirable: immediate compliance on the part of the child.

The undesirables included physical abuse by a parent, child aggression, and criminal or antisocial behavior in both childhood and adulthood.

Research also has shown that after punishment, children avoid the action that led to the punishment but don't always understand why. If our goal is to teach our children to be responsible citizens who understand the difference between right and wrong, then exerting our physical power over them doesn't equate to discipline.

Aggression of that nature serves merely as an outlet for frustrated parents. Indeed, it takes more time and energy to educate a child than it does to hit them.

I felt Ella's attempt at discipline might have been a little harsh. "Ella," I told her, "Sophia shouldn't have interrupted you, but she's not your daughter, she's your 5-year-old sister. In the future, leave the discipline to me and Mom."

Hopefully, Ella and Sophia both learned a lesson.

Painting Toenails...for boys too

A couple of weeks ago, Ella spent the day at her friend Riley's house. Riley's mom was helping the girls paint their toenails. Ella, my 8-year-old, mentioned in passing that I had my toes painted as well. Riley's mom asked, "Really? Did Andrew let you and your sister paint his toenails?"

"Oh no," Ella replied. "Daddy has his toes professionally done."

Before you question my manhood, here's the story. This summer, my wife cut her hand and needed stitches. Once her fingers had healed, I bought her a manicure, and treated my kids to one as well. Since I needed something to do in the meanwhile, I treated myself to my first pedicure. The orange polish was Ella's choice.

Since males don't generally have their toenails painted, I received some interesting feedback when I wore sandals this summer. I wasn't embarrassed, but I wondered: Are traditional gender roles still valid in today's society?

Dads are no longer the only breadwinners and moms aren't the only ones who know to separate whites and colors. Yet gender distinctions endure because it's hard to change old habits.

For many years, women stayed home and men provided for the family because those in charge (the men) decided it should be so. Once we realized women were able to do the same jobs men could, females joined the workplace and thrived.

Nowadays, many parents share equally in the tasks that were once considered the property of one sex or the other, like financial responsibilities and domestic management.

One parent isn't always responsible for the same thing, which leads to less stress. If Mom can work full-time and read bedtime stories, Dad should be able to work and pack lunches, but both should be flexible when required.

Raising two girls has given me perspective on gender roles. If we're restricted because of simply being male or female, what prevents us from being restricted by other factors?

The only true boundaries are ones we create for ourselves and for each other. Girls and boys, while different, still belong to the same species.

Ella and her sister Sophia's reality consists of what they see at home. When Tanya works extra shifts and still comes home in time for bedtime cuddles, they learn that moms help more than just their own kids. When Dad mows the lawn and then plays Barbies, it shows that fathers, too, can be well-rounded.

Despite my preference for flaunting conventional roles, I will confess to one thing of which I am afraid: the pubescent years, where I'm happy to leave the nuances of menstruation and makeup to my wife.

And I'm sure Tanya is equally happy if I continue to carry in the heavy groceries. So maybe some traditions don't change.

The essence of parenthood has nothing to do with whether I'm more comfortable playing dress-up with a bunch of 8-year-old girls (Ella's friends think I'm a bit nutty) or working with a table saw. (I don't even own one.)

All that matters is that I'm there. Orange toes or not.

It's All in the Voice

A few months ago, my wife was getting ready to leave the house with our daughters, Ella and Sophia. The kids were fighting and generally not cooperating, despite Tanya's repeated requests to get moving.

"Alright, that's it!" Tanya yelled. "Everyone get in the car right now or I'm leaving you at home by yourselves!"

The girls ran into the car without a word but Tanya was still seething. After a few deep breaths, she looked in the rearview mirror and said in her most over-the-top, flowery voice, "OK, ladies, who's going to have a great day today?"

Ella, our 8-year-old, was shocked. "Mom, where did your mean voice go?" she asked.

Tanya didn't know the answer. She needed to do something to keep the rest of the day from becoming a stressful, angry mess so she made an effort to change her attitude. Her rapid reversal worked; Ella was more concerned with Tanya's quick personality switch, the girls stopped fighting and everyone had a good day. This common situation made me wonder: Why is it so hard for us to turn bad situations into good ones?

Stubbed toes. Burned toast. Car won't start. For some reason, when a day starts out bad, it usually gets worse. We brood about what went wrong and recite quotes like, "when it rains it pours" or go on about "Murphy's law." The conscious attitude change that's needed to turn things around isn't easy. But the longer we stay upset, the less likely we are to change it.

We know intuitively that complaining won't help, yet we do it anyway. It seems natural to lament what went wrong. Maybe we're looking for sympathy or someone to tell us it'll all work out or maybe we simply don't know what else to do. But we can create or destroy our own stress.

I've witnessed tantrums from both of my kids. They cry and scream as if the world is about to end and are generally inconsolable. If I were somehow driven to act like that, I'd be traumatized for a week, maybe longer, worried about all the consequences. But for Ella and Sophia, after 15 minutes of blowing off steam, the next chapter begins. They behave as if nothing ever happened and don't carry the stress forward or let it build into something dangerous. I sometimes stand in awe of that gift.

The challenge is figuring out how to move from "mean voice" to "calm voice" and still let our genuine emotions take shape. Perhaps like Tanya did in the car, we should fake it to initiate the change and trust that things will improve. By getting the kids to forget about the stress, Tanya managed to trick herself and eventually moved on, even if her happiness wasn’t sincere at that moment. She had more to worry about than just herself.


Moral of the story? We have many available voices. If you use the mean one, make sure you put it back.

Expectations

My mother-in-law, Gloria, volunteers at a local elementary school, helping second graders with reading and writing skills. Last week, one of her students was acting hyper. Gloria told him it was time to concentrate and do his work. The boy looked her in the eye and said, "Look Lady, I'm only seven. What do you expect?"

If we don't expect great things, we'll never achieve them. If we set the bar too high, we might make ourselves too anxious. Somewhere in the middle is a balance for each individual. When it comes to kids, I wonder:
What is the best way to manage expectations in order to achieve success?

We constantly set expectations to guide us through challenges and to help us achieve our goals, no matter how big or small. For some, these serve as a stimulus to work hard. For others, they create more stress than is healthy.

In America, where ingenuity and achievement are highly valued, highly motivated achievers are common. No activity is too difficult and no challenge too daunting. Failure is not feared but a necessary obstacle on the road to success.

On the other side, there are those who are comfortable with lower levels of risk and, by extension, reward. While they don't aim for the grand outcomes, like being a billionaire or winning a Super Bowl, they probably end up with fewer failures. Both types of people are similar in that they set their expectations based on what feels comfortable.

Adults have earned the right to choose their paths. Young children need to be given firm guidelines of what is expected of them before they can be free to set their own goals. Since self-discovery is an ongoing process, the learning curve is steep for youngsters. With an early start and ample room for error, the future is ripe with possibilities. As the ones entrusted with guidance for our little animals, we need to teach them to set appropriate expectations.

It's important to understand that the learning isn't limited to children. We parents also need to know what they expect of us. Indeed, at times I've set my expectations too high or too low. I've learned from my mistakes and hopefully have adjusted accordingly. I trust my family to guide me through my children's formative years because things change quickly.

In my brief parenting career, I think I've learned as much as my kids have. Before Ella was born 8 years ago, I had no idea about things like how much kids ate, how long they slept and how far they hiked before whining. Now, as I'm 5 years into the second child, I'm more comfortable with the failures and mistakes, and I've embraced the inevitable change. In fact, I expect it.

Gloria told me the boy in her class finally settled down and did his work, and he learned an important lesson about expectations that will stick with him. Not even seven-year-olds get a free pass.

How much information is enough? Or too much?

Last week, Sophia and I were talking about love and marriage. Here's how the conversation went with my 5-year-old:

"Dad, did you have other girlfriends before mom?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you marry them?"

"Because I loved mom the most."

She paused. "Did you kiss your other girlfriends?"

"Yes."

"On the cheek or the lips?"

I immediately thought of adolescence and dating and boyfriends and got way ahead of myself. Sophia's earnest interest in my life before I married Tanya and had two kids got me thinking: Is it necessary for our young children to know all the embarrassing details of our lives before they arrived? Is that information helpful?

Contrary to what children tend to think, our lives began long before we were parents. We had other relationships and made many choices, some better than others. And although it might be hard for our kids to believe (except for those rebellious teenagers), we weren't always paragons of righteousness.

Everything we've done to this point has helped create and mold who we are as people and as parents. Our past experiences - even some of the things of which we're not proud - should serve as valuable teaching moments. We learn more from our mistakes than from our successes.

My goal is not to steer Sophia and Ella, her 8-year-old sister, away from conflict. I want to give them insight into how their inevitable challenges can help instead of harm them. Cautionary tales seem like a good option, at least now.

I'm not proud of everything I've done in the past, but my identity as a person (and all that has contributed to it to this point) shouldn't comprise my value as a parent. I maintain relationships with friends and coworkers and have varied interests. Even if these don't always mingle with my family life, they continue to influence me.

Tanya and I dated other people before we found each other, and neither of us is embarrassed to tell our children. Because of dating experiences in the past, I learned how to stand up for myself, when to argue and when to agree. Most importantly, I learned what I wanted in a mate, and what I didn't. And everything seems to have worked out well.

My daughters' inquisitiveness leads me to believe that we aren't meant to take on life's journey alone.
When Sophia took an interest in the decision processes that have led me to this point, I realized something: parents are the first line of defense against egregious mistakes, but also are the gatekeepers of freedom to learn. When our kids ask us tough questions, they crave the tough answers. If we choose to not engage their embarrassing questions, we may be doing our little animals a disservice for the long run.

I finally told Sophia that, yes, I kissed my old girlfriends on the lips. Predictably, "Ewww" was her reply. We laughed and I changed the subject. I didn't want to divulge any more.