The chipping away of innocence

The other day on the way to school, Justus was telling me all about how there have been 44 presidents and how important Abraham Lincoln and George Washington were.  I beamed with pride of how smart he is.  I am pretty certain that at his age, I did not know the names of important presidents, much less how many we'd had to date.  Then he did a little of his typical imaginary play, which I also love.  He co-mingles real life with books with tv shows...  It definitely makes for some interesting stories.  Then, out of the blue, he says "Mommy, did you know there were bad guys who flew planes into the really tall building and it fell and a bunch of people died?". I paused, and had to think for a second--is he making this up, or is this a real story?  It hits me, which is exactly how it feels anytime the subject comes up, even 10+ years later.  It is a real story, a very real story.  One that I (and every other American) remember like it was yesterday.  But, how does my 5-year old know about that awful day that changed the world?  I know that we've never discussed it with or even around him.  School, of course.  At first I'm bothered, but I don't know why.  It is part of our history and something that all children will learn about.  Side note:  When I asked his teacher about it, she said it came up when the kids ask what presidents do, and they discussed making hard decisions (like going to war).  Can't say it's my favorite teaching moment in pre-k, but I can accept that.

I've always known that the difficult subjects would come up.  I just wasn't expecting it yet, and frankly hadn't considered 9/11/01 as a topic I would have a hard time discussing with my kids.  In a bit of a shock, I just acknowledge that I did know about that.  Satisfied with my simple yes, he went on mixing real life and fantasy as though we had just discussed what color the Hot Wheel in his little hand was.  However, in that moment, I felt the need to say so many different things to him.  I wanted to say how sad it was, where I was exactly when it happened, how proud I was of our country in the following weeks, months, and years; how hard it's been to be a country a war, and so much more.  Mostly, I wanted to tell him how we would always protect him as best we could and that he shouldn't fear something like that happening, and what a (hopefully) very rare event it was.  Finally, of course I would tell him how important it is to tell your loved ones that you care about them and never say goodbye in anger because you just never know what can happen.  This would obviously all be much too heavy for a child of his age, but I just felt like a piece of his innocence disappeared that day, whether he knew it or not and something needed to be said.  Yet, I sat silent as we drove on.  It begs the question--is that what education does?  Chip away at our innocence by teaching us the truth?  Is it even the truth?  Not to get into a debate over the perspectives taught in our schools, especially given that mine is still only in pre-k, but I guess I feel compelled to know exactly what he was told about such an important event to ensure the story matches with what I want him to believe about that day.

I'm not disappointed that he knows.  I'm not even disappointed that he learned about it at daycare.  I think my only disappointment is that, assuming he remembers and if it actually sets in, that can be a really scary thing for a kid his age and we never want our children to be fearful.  This is obviously not a real possibility, but we still do all we can to prevent it.  We also know that experiencing fear and other negative emotions develop our inner strength and shape how we maneuver similar situations going forward.  It leads me to think of all the other difficult topics that will arise over the years, and I know this is just the beginning. I kind of feel like I just flunked "Tough Talks 101." Guess I better put my game face on, because it's going to be a bumpy road.