Mostly Game

I have to share this fantastic article over on New York Magazine about lying, specifically how kids learn to do it and why they continue to do it into their adolescent years.

Are Kids Copying Their Parents When They Lie?

You need to read the whole thing (it’s 5 pages long) — it’s really good, and title aside, isn’t just about the parental link to lying. Just some tidbits to whet your interest:

• In one study, when quizzed on 36 topics, 98% of the teenagers interviewed reported lying to their parents.
• Think your good kid doesn’t lie? “Being an honors student didn’t change these numbers by much; nor did being an overscheduled kid. No kid, apparently, was too busy to break a few rules.”
• “In studies where children are observed in their natural environment, a 4-year-old will lie once every two hours, while a 6-year-old will lie about once every hour and a half. Few kids are exceptions.”
• When 6-year-olds are first read either The Boy Who Cried Wolf or George Washington and the Cherry Tree before being asked about lying while under observation, the kids who heard the first storied lied MORE than kids who heard no story at all, while kids who heard the latter story lied 43% less often. “Ultimately, it’s not fairy tales that stop kids from lying—it’s the process of socialization. But the wisdom in The Cherry Tree applies: According to Talwar, parents need to teach kids the worth of honesty, just like George Washington’s father did, as much as they need to say that lying is wrong.”
• The article lays a direct path from “Don’t tattle” in the toddler and elementary school years up to teenagers and the “era of holding back information from parents.”
• “The big surprise in the research is when this need for autonomy is strongest. It’s not mild at 12, moderate at 15, and most powerful at 18. Darling’s scholarship shows that the objection to parental authority peaks around ages 14 to 15. In fact, this resistance is slightly stronger at age 11 than at 18.”
• How out of touch are parents with their teenagers? Consider the results of separate interviews with mothers and their adolescents about arguing.
  • Forty-six percent of the mothers rated their arguments as being destructive to their relationships with their teens. Being challenged was stressful, chaotic, and (in their perception) disrespectful. The more frequently they fought, and the more intense the fights were, the more the mother rated the fighting as harmful. But only 23 percent of the adolescents felt that their arguments were destructive. Far more believed that fighting strengthened their relationship with their mothers. “Their perception of the fighting was really sophisticated, far more than we anticipated for teenagers,” notes Holmes. “They saw fighting as a way to see their parents in a new way, as a result of hearing their mother’s point of view be articulated.”

Anyway, I could quote this thing all day. Just go read it.

“Ryan, do you have to go pee?”

“No, I’m just playing with my penis.”

You know, as a parent I’m constantly “keeping tabs” on my son’s progress in different developmental areas (and now, for my new daughter, too). Is he talking like he should for his age? Should he be reading by now? Can he ride a bike? Apply critical thinking skills to synthesize a concept? heh

Anyway, one of my favorite unexpected pleasures is when he does something that I totally had no idea he could do. For example, up to now, his drawing skills were pretty much non-existent. When pressed, he could draw a square or circle for you, but otherwise when left to his own devices he pretty much just scribbles, with an occassional oblong shape when he draws a germ (don’t ask). Today, he drew a dinosaur. It’s not great feat of art – not even as good as my mediocre skills can render – but it was clearly a quadripedal shape. He told me it was a brontosaurus and pointed out its legs and head, and that there was a blue sky above it.

Awesome.

Other recent bits:

• I had no idea he was learning about the planets in preschool. He asked me what a star was and I told him I thought it was Jupiter. So he told me about Mars. “It’s all red there. Everything rusted, and then everyone had to move to Earth.”
• He and the D went to “Walk with Dinosaurs: LIVE” at the BOK Center the other day. He told me about how the asteroid came down and caused all the dinosaurs to die. “But I think maybe, they’re not really all dead. Maybe they’re all hiding.” When I asked him why we haven’t seen any, he said, “They’re still hiding in case another asteroid comes.”

Well, actually, I better stop there. I think most people love stories about their own kids (and will tell them at length), but most people find other people’s kids stories boring, heh.

It’s funny… I had a stomach full of nerves the day before we flew to LAX to get Caroline, but by the evening I was calmed down. I was pretty copacetic the next day while D continued to be nervous. Even though we had all the delayed flights and waiting 2.5 hours for everyone to come through immigration and the rushed hand off, etc., it didn’t really induce all that much anxiety for me, at least not as I was expecting.

Strange to say, but it almost felt old hat; even this past week has been just “going through the process” so to speak. Of course, like Ryan, it may be that Caroline is just an exemplary case. Every day she’s adapting more and more, relaxing, playing, etc. Today, she didn’t even complain when Mommy left the room once or twice while she was playing with me and Ryan. The main place where I feel like it’s obvious that she’s grieving is when she cries or gets upset when she’s sleeping — and honestly, I’m not even positive if that’s grieving or just typical kid stuff.

One week down, fifty years to go.

Oh, and I’ve managed to contract a cold. Dumbass.

• Daughter: awesome.
• Flights: delayed.
• Trip: long.
• Family: exhausted.
• Car Seat: not a fan.

I’ve set this post to publish at approximately the same time I am meeting our new daughter for the first time. As you read this, I am at LAX, waiting for two of my aunts from Korea to come through customs and immigration with a 10-month old girl named Min Yeong, who we will be calling Caroline. Should be awesome.

The next two or three weeks are expected to be pretty tough, though. Caroline has been fostered since she was just a few days old, so at this age she will have already developed bonding and attachment with her foster family, and especially her foster mother. Word on the street is to expect two to three weeks of grieving, bare tolerance for the new daddy, and outright dislike of the new mommy. Fortunately, I get to take off some time from work during this transition period. Ryan will probably feel the pinch on Ryan Time, too, so that will take some management and adjustment.

Go us!