My 6 year old son saw my World War II soldier models (read: “action figures” — not dolls) and asked about them. (They had been stored behind the sofa, and I had forgotten about them until moving the sofa away from the wall to unplug a lamp.) The specific question that stumped me on an explanation for a 6 year old was, “Which ones are the good guys, and which ones are the bad guys?”

There are four figures: two Americans, two Germans. I tried to explain that they’re soldiers for two different nations, but I stumbled trying to explain the whole “good guy/bad guy” thing as it regards real-life people and situations. His frame of reference comes from things like comic books, toys, and such.

In comic books, there are good guys and there are bad guys. (Actually, this is not always the case. But that’s a whole other post.) Many toys he’s seen and played with, there are distinct and identifiable goods guys and bad guys: the king’s knights are the good guys, and the dragon barbarians are the bad guys. Playground games he plays have good guys and bad guys: the cops are the good guys, and the robbers are the bad guys.

But in real life, the line between good guys and bad guys is not very well drawn. It’s often not even very well understood. Now, I am a believer in Good and Evil; there are truly Good and truly Evil people in the world. But 99% of the normal people aren’t easily explained with those labels. Someone can be nice without being really good, and someone can be a jackass without being really evil. And most people have a little bit of both nice and jackass in them. And then there’s the whole twist of how an evil person can be nice and a good person can be a jackass.

How to explain this concept to a 6 year old? I think I explained it sufficiently for his question, without going deeper than he would understand or care.

When I was young, a new kid moved into our neighborhood—from Germany. I remember the discussion with my friends about whether this new kid was a “good German” or a “bad German”. In our very limited understanding of the world, West Germany was the good side, full of good people, and East Germany was the bad side, full of bad people.

I don’t want my children to only think in this kind of moral dichotomy. I also don’t want them warped by a relativistic morality, either. Molding young minds and hearts is complicated. This kind of thing probably shouldn’t be left up to just anyone who can procreate. (Especially someone who still owns toy soldiers at 40 years old.)

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I don’t want my August 31 post to get added to the “evidence” that people use to support an urban myth. Urban myths are fun and all, but I really don’t like misinformation spoken as fact.

Ironically, a few days before I made that post about the child with a peanut allergy in my son’s preschool class, I was contemplating a post about the peanut ban in schools myth. With the beginning of a new school year, people tend to talk about school—things they remember, things that are always the same, and things that have changed. Something I’ve heard as fact for a few years now, is that schools have banned peanuts to protect those students with peanut allergies.

Until this one class with my youngest son, I’ve never actually heard of a real instance of any kind of peanut allergy. I’ve heard the urban stories, but ironically, these stories are told by people with no kids or with no kids in school. A week or so ago, I heard this concept mentioned twice in a few days. One person, with no children, brought up the “fact” of how schools have changed and now peanuts are banned in many schools. The other person, with a child about to enter kindergarten at the same school my son is in first grade, asked whether there was a problem with sending peanuts to school in a child’s lunch.

I told both people that my son takes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to school every day (literally), and has for all five years he’s been in a school environment. I’ve never seen a rule against peanuts in any school information I’ve read. So, as far as I can tell, the whole peanut ban story is a myth.

My first son has been in some form of school for five years. From pre-school for just two days a week, to first grade five days a week, he’s been in two different schools. I’ve seen the rules for other schools and districts. I’ve also talked with parents with kids in other schools and districts.

Now, I could do some research on the subject, and tell you exactly what the percentage of children with this allergy is. I could also research many school districts and see if there actually are any schools that ban peanuts. But this is a blog, not an article—I’m doing this writing as a hobby, not as my job. So I’m just telling you what I’ve seen with my older child in school.

What I feared may happen with my anecdote about a peanut ban in a single small class in a private preschool, is that people will take the story and retell it as evidence that the peanut ban story in all or many schools is truth. I hope this post sets the record straight: one or two anecdotes, even truthful ones, does not support a broad concept. As a parent with a child in a “peanut banned” class, I do not believe peanuts are banned in many schools. (Note: this peanut ban is only for one class, not for the whole school.)

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

We visited the classroom and met the teachers of my soon-to-be-3 year old’s preschool class. He’ll be starting next week. The teachers went over the daily routine for the kids, and explained all the stuff we need to know, from the drop-off and pick-up procedures to how they’ll handle taking the kids to the restroom.

An interesting thing we learned is that one of the kids in the class has peanut allergies. Of all the kids I’ve known since having kids of my own, this is the first time I’ve encountered this well-known condition. For this child (which one we don’t know), the allergy is apparently severe. Severe enough to affect what all the other children can bring to class with them. Snacks and lunches, for all the children in this class (12 total), must not contain any peanuts or peanut products.

This is kind of a weird situation. I feel for the parents of the child—I know dealing with that kind of allergy has got to be tough, not to mention the fear they live with. But their situation is now affecting 11 other families. Eleven other children cannot bring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a staple of kids everywhere) and many other foods with peanuts in the ingredients. This is really not a simple thing. Check the ingredients on many of the snack and lunch foods in your home. We have to check the labels on everything we buy for and send with our child to school. So do the other 10 families.

Fortunately, the class is only twice a week, so we can work around this situation. But the concept of a single child with a problem affecting so many other families to this extent is a little . . . noteworthy.

The other parents at the meeting were obviously, and vocally, stunned by the rule.
“Peanut butter is the only thing I know my kid will eat.”
“Peanuts are in everything.”
“What will happen if someone forgets one time?”
No one was rude or inconsiderate—the class-wide rule just surprised everyone.

Imagine if a couple times a week, no one in your office could wear cotton, for the sake of a coworker’s severe allergies to the fiber.

It’s an awkward position to be put in. No respectable parent wants to harm a child by action or inaction or mistake, but it’s also pretty invasive for one child’s condition to control the perfectly normal choices and actions of 11 other families.

[Edit: See my September 5 2007 post for a post script to this item.]

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

My 6 year old, his best friend, my 2 year old, and I went out in the back yard last evening with water balloons. The boys were very excited, and were very anxious to play immediately, but I found filling balloons with water is not an easy task. It’s aggravatingly difficult, in fact.

The package of balloons came with a special nozel that attaches to the water hose, but there was no shut off for the water other than at the wall. I filled the first balloon easily, but then struggled to tie off the end. I struggled and struggled and struggled and &%$*##@* struggled. All the while, the water is flowing from the hose. And the boys were coming up to me wanting to play with everything every 10 seconds.

I eventually rigged up a system of filling the balloons without wasting too much water (much water was still wasted, just not “too much”). I never managed to get good or fast with tying off a small balloon filled with water, but I at least got about a dozen balloons filled and tied.

Preparation took about 20 minutes. Destruction took about 2 minutes. Unfortunately, most of the balloons would not pop when they hit a kid’s body—they would bounce off a boy’s back, fall into the grass, and burst on the ground. Rather disappointing. I threw one at my 6 year old’s chest, but he scrunched down instinctively, so the balloon hit him right on the nose. It bounced off and burst on the ground. Fortunately he was not hurt by the smack to the face, and just continued running and laughing.

I think water balloons might be more fun with older kids, so they and I can throw them hard enough to burst on a body. Watching them wet only the ground was just disappointing. So I ended up taking the hose to the boys to get them good and wet.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com