Elana Kirsh

Category: preschoolers

  • Talking About War With 5 Year Olds

    GG had a story to tell me when I got home from work today.

    “Mama, there’s this country near us, and in it there are mostly good people but also some bad people. And they fired a missile at us because they want to take our country away from us.

    They want to kill us.”

    I guess it’s not an entirely inaccurate summary of today’s news, actually. But how is this coming from my 5-year-old son?

    I take a deep breath as he speaks,

    I get down at eye level, listening. My response seems crucial here. What’s my message?

    GG’s friend has something to share, too. When the rocket alert siren went off, his parents and sisters came into the room while he was sleeping. His bedroom is the bomb shelter.

    This is how kids growing up in conflict get initiated into their respective national mindsets. Talk of violent, mortal danger at the dinner table, waiting for the cookies in the oven to finish baking. Fear as a way of life, the omnipresent, evil enemy is out to get us.

    By the time they finish talking I know what I want to get across. That they’re safe, that we’ve always got their backs. That we’re the lucky ones in this story. And that there are no baddies, just people doing bad things.

    I ask a few more questions. They don’t seem scared, they’re telling me these stories like they’re talking about Batman. But the fact that we’re having this conversation makes my eyes sting with tears.

    I tell GG that I loved what he said about there being mainly good people in that other country. And I tell them both that if there are any more sirens, they just need to follow instructions from the adults they’re with and they’ll be safe.

    They know, of course. They’ve done drills at kindergarten.

    The conversation drifts and that’s it. They’re back to the LEGO. I hope it doesn’t come up again for many years, but I know that’s unlikely. I guess all we can do right now is make sure our kids know they’re safe. And teach them about kindness, acceptance and keeping an open mind… in the hope that they won’t be having these conversations with their own kids in 30 years’ time.

  • An Afternoon Oasis in a Sea of Stress

    What a perfect afternoon.

    An afternoon to remind me of the power of one-on-one time. Of observation and connection. Of slowing down.

    Straight after GG’s nap – when he’s often super grumpy – I took him out for a date. And yes, I totally bribed him out of his bad mood with ice cream, I’ll admit it. But watching him eat it was a meditation. He loved every lick, every bite of the cone. He was so in the moment he couldn’t even speak to me while he ate.

    Every meal should be like a 3-year-old boy eating ice cream.

    After the ice cream we ran around an empty mall. Hopped, jumped, fell to the ground at his whim. I showed him how to do somersaults in a baby play area. I fought the urge to play with my phone when his attention wandered from me, and instead kept mine glued to him. Yet another exercise in mindfulness. In staying in the present for once.

    On the way home we stopped to fill the car up with petrol. He got out with me and asked questions. A million “why’s” that for once I had the time and the head space to answer. Or try to answer.

    Why is petrol dangerous for little kids, anyway?

    It was just an hour and a half, but we so needed that time, GG and me. Time together with no agenda, no bathing or dinnertime or bedtime battles. No baby sister or other adults. Just us.

    When we got home, some kids from his new kindergarten were meeting in the local playground, so his dad took him to join them. And so it was just me and Little A at home. Again – a rare treat.

    Babies seem simpler, but I think that’s just because we don’t pay them enough attention.

    Every move this kid makes is an exploration, an experiment, an expression. Every turn of her hand is a preparation for her next move, or bite of food, or request. And I’m her mama, I know her back to front, I can preempt her requests before she’s even made them – but sometimes it’s beautiful not to. Rather, to lay next to her and see the world through her eyes for a few moments.

    We ate, played, bathed. For once I wasn’t rushed as I washed her, fending off GG’s “help” in the form of buckets of water on her head. Instead I watched her examine each toy with her mouth, giggled with her, cuddled and marveled at how big she’s gotten, though it seems like she was born just yesterday.

    It all sounds awfully flowerly, I know. But that’s really how it felt.
    An oasis of joy in a sea of stress, emails, anxiety, drop offs and pick ups.

    A reminder of what it’s all about.