Kids KNOW things. They know everything that is said, everything that was done (or not done), and they usually know the things you're keeping from them, even if it's for their own protection. I generally believe that my children know a lot, with the exception of what they're getting for Christmas. They would have a much better grasp of this if they would refrain from asking for absolutely e-ver-y-thing they see on television, hear on the radio, observe in the world, see an advertisement for, believe is on any kind of list (including recalls), or (and this is the best) stuff they have completely made up and doesn't actually exist.
*child knowledge* Leonardo discussing Christianity at the dinner table last night: *puts his hands out to the sides* This is what Jesus was like when he been hanged up.
Most of the time, I am the kind of mother who wants to help my kids understand the world around them. I will be the first to admit that I am a little naive, sometimes believing my children can grasp something that is way beyond their ability to comprehend, but I'm right there trying to explain it in a hundred different ways. On the other hand, I sometimes believe they "got it" and am jolted back to reality when I witness how very wrong I am.
Yes, sometimes I am wrong. <------ for my husband, who sometimes thinks I'm wrong.
When I was pregnant with RJ, the big boys were three. Actually, they turned three during my second trimester. As you can imagine, they had tons of questions about having babies. Mostly, they thought we should have twins again. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that these decisions are not left up to my children. The next big topic was how. How is the baby going to go from inside mommy to living here in our house?
So I did what any abnormal parent would do and showed them a You Tube video of a cesarean section.
Duh.
From my point of view, this went great! They loved the video, asked questions, and went about their merry way... well, that's what Naive Raina believed.
*queue Sponge Bob narrator voice*
Three days later...
Rodrigo and I are in our room and I hear Leonardo freaking out. I mean f-r-e-a-k-ing out hysterical screaming -- the kind that a mother hears and runs as fast as she can, holding her cell, her finger paused on the 9, expecting to have to call an ambulance.
What I find is Gavin, looking like Johnny out of The Shining, walking towards Leonardo with a huge knife in his hand (I want to note right here that this would be the exact day that our knives moved from their own special drawer to a land far, far away, never to be seen by little boys again...) Here is my exact first thought: Oh no! Gavin's nuts!
So I take the knife away, calm Leonardo down, and praise God that no one was hurt. Then we sit down to chat.
ME: Gavin, you can't play with knives. It's very dangerous. You scared Leonardo. Leo, tell him you're scared.
LEONARDO: You scared me. And I was screaming, and you were coming with a big knife and I yelled and Mommy came out. Phew.
ME: You could have severely injured your brother, or even killed him. You don't want to hurt your brother, do you?
GAVIN: *acts like I am crazy* No, no, no, Mom! *laughing* I wasn't going to hurt him. I was just going to cut out his baby!
ME: Okay. Mommy will be right back, and we'll talk about this some more.
*inner thought*
Crap.
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