Forget the cat- Don't kill curiosity

I haven't written in almost two months. Perhaps it's because I'm really busy right now. Or it could be because I have a touch of writer's block. Or maybe it's that, lately, I'm really turned off by the artificial environment created via social networking. Whatever the reason, I feel compelled to write about an experience with Toby last night... I want to remember it.

We recently purchased Preschool Prep as an educational tool. (We love it, by the way) But, because we are pretty strict with our screen time policies, we only allow Toby to watch one "episode" per day. Fortunately (and unfortunately) Toby loves it. Which means he asks for it ALL.THE.TIME. (He calls it "Tee-tee.") Last night, after the millionth time he asked for "Red Tee-tee" (the Meet the Colors DVD in the Preschool Prep pack) we told him, "Tee-tee is broken."

Was that the right thing to do? I don't know. Should we have lied to him? Maybe not. Should we give in and let him watch it any time he wants? Who knows? I'm not sure of the answers to any of these questions but, I've surrendered to the idea that often there are no definitive answers when it comes to parenting.

After telling him Tee-tee was broken, the following conversation took place:

Toby: "Tee-tee again!"
Jessi: "No, buddy. Tee-tee is broken, remember?"
Toby: "Mama, me fix Tee-tee."
Aaron: "You think you can fix Tee-tee?"
Toby: "Yep. Me fix Tee-tee. Watch Red. Mote?"

We didn't hesitate and, instead, handed him the "mote" (remote.) He fiddled around with it for a few minutes while Aaron and I watched. (We had discretely unplugged the television so the remote would not have worked.) After a few minutes Toby said, "Tee-tee gone" and that was the end of it. He moved on.

Later, after we put Toby to bed, I said to Aaron "Isn't it cute that he thought he could fix the television? I wonder why he thought he could fix it?" Aaron simply said, "He believes in himself. He has no reason to think he couldn't fix it."

The conversation ended and we moved on but, I thought a lot about that for the rest of the night. One of my biggest parenting fears is the overarching fact that things are out of my control. I can't control the people in his life who show little interest in him. I can't stop the kids at school who may someday cut him down. I can't (and won't) prevent his failures. However, it does pain to me think of the ways the world will take things from him that he will never noticed he had.

It really reminded me of this book I read in graduate school about philosophy in relation to "self" and building security and autonomy. The author discussed how a child will want to stop (usually when we are in a rush) to point out a "doggy" or a flower . We (the parent/adult or, one could argue, society) forces them into complacency: "Yes! That's a doggy! It's just a doggy. Let's go- we're late!" And with that, we've shamed them for being curious. Instead of reinforcing the vulnerable moment in which we can facilitate exploration, we squash it. That may be the last time they are curious about that something for the first time. We are always looking forward to the firsts, but we never pay attention to the lasts.

Alas, I digress.

The point is, Toby thought he could fix the television. At two-years-old, he thought that he could fix an electronic device without any knowledge about electricity. I have a masters degree yet, I can't figure out how to work my cell phone half the time; I'm intimidated by most electronics. However, my son thinks he can fix a television. More over, he wants to take a shot doing something that will, in the end, get him what he wants (Red Tee-tee.)

In honor of full disclosure, on another day we might have said, "Toby, you can't fix the television. You're not watching Red Tee-tee again. You know the rules." But, for this moment in time, for a precious minute, we surrendered to his curiosity-- to his belief that he can do anything-- and we stood by and let him fail. We didn't rub it in. We didn't say, "See! You can't fix the television!" We just surrendered. One thing I am learning is to pick my battles (and with a toddler, he gives me many opportunities to pick and choose.)

I guess what I'm really wondering about is when we stop believing in ourselves? While I think our (dis)abilities become more explicit when we grow and are able to reason, I think it goes deeper. Where do we lose the ability to really believe in our "self"?  On a play ground? At a family gathering? On Facebook? In our manager's office? Via a "thin envelope" from our "safe school?" Or, could it really be when our curiosity is squashed??? When we prevent someone from trying something they might fail? Or by assuming failure is inevitable?

I'm not sure.

Clearly parenting is no joke. It comes with so many doubts and questions. But, I think I'm going to surrender to my own curiosity more often... and certainly nurture his. I want him to trust himself enough to try- but have the wisdom to know his possibilities. I want him to be curious and sometimes that means I have to let go of adult logic and, frankly, get the hell out of the way.