I recently had the privilege of talking with Adam Glennon, the author of Why Do They Always Shout? A Dad’s Perspective. Using a creative non-fiction approach, Adam blends real life family-related experiences with a fictional prose, allowing him to explore personal topics in an often tongue-in-cheek way. The book, whilst Adam professes it to be the very antithesis of a parenting manual, does offer thought-provoking stories about many elements of parenting, from being sleep-deprived, to baby-wearing, to navigating lock-down as a parent. One theme I was particularly drawn to was Adam’s awareness of the language we use with our children, and much it can impact upon on them, as well as the importance of encouraging appropriate risk-taking and opportunities. In one of his chapters, Adam talks about the use of the words, “Be careful!” and, for me, it brought an awareness of how often I use those words, without really explaining what I actually want the children to be wary of, or how they could assess and manage risk for themselves.
Another example of the importance of how we communicate with children is discussed in the chapter, “Talking to Strangers”, which Adam has kindly agreed for me to share here.
Talking to Strangers
There are many sayings from childhood that spring to mind now I’m the parent.
“Wash behind your ears or spuds will grow there.”
Classic.
“Don’t pick your nose - your head will cave in.”
Used by every teacher at my primary school throughout the 1980s.
I guess they’re supposed to be fun, yet I can’t help but think that at the core they instil a sense of fear within a child’s easily coerced mind. You know, back from the good old days when children were to be “seen and not heard,” and it was the norm to give your kids a good smack now and again. For their own good, of course. Knowing Arlo as I do, he thinks very literally and if I said his head will cave in if he picks his nose, I reckon he’ll be discussing it in therapy for most of his adult life.
What we really want is for children, anyone, to not pick their nose while you’re trying to have a civil conversation with them.
‘Can you stop doing that while we’re talking please?’
‘Wait a second, neeearly got it.’
Once the rooting is complete, the picker is faced with that universal decision; whether to wipe it on the furniture or roll it into a ball and flick it across the room or, option three, a popular choice with kids, eat it! I’ve witnessed a few bloody noses as a result of over enthusiastic rooting - suffered a few myself - and I’ve seen some humongous bogeys balanced on the end of proud fingers, but I have never, not once, seen a child’s head implode while doing it. Or heard of it happening to anyone.
‘Good morning, children,’ The headteacher says.
‘Gooood mooooorning, Miss.’
‘I have some terrible news. We’ve been informed that Steven Parkes from year 4, who was caught picking his nose yesterday while queuing for lunch, later suffered from a collapsed head. His parents said he’s now three inches smaller. Let this be a lesson to you all!’
Never happened.
And spuds behind the ear! Don’t get me started. I remember checking while in the bath, convinced I must have some. It’s hard to connect with the distant memory but the residue of confusion was very clear. The last thing I would have thought of doing back then was ask someone if it was true or not. Oh no. Much better to allow the thoughts to rattle around inside my brain, unchallenged, able to mutate into something much worse.
I don’t want my boys to be confused about their bodies.
Or the multi-verse either!
I remember lying on my Nana’s sheep skin rug when I was about eight, and from nowhere I was struck suddenly by one of those uncontrollable shivers that moves through your whole body. I’m eight, so I don’t give it much thought. You just accept it as another one of them weird body things no one talks about; like constipation and that crusty bit in your eye unhelpfully referred to as “sleep.”
I shivered. I accepted. I moved on.
Then…
‘That’s someone walking over your grave,’ Nana said.
Mind blown!
I was watching H.R. Pufnstuf on VHS at the time, which was weird enough, but this was next level. I don’t think a week passes without reliving that moment and linking it to my childhood curiosity of the supernatural and all things weird. Was someone walking over my grave in the past or the future? Was my Nana a time traveller? Why was someone walking over my grave anyway? Have they no respect for the dead?
My life was never the same.
Some sayings were actually quite sensible. More like instructions.
“Stop, Look, Listen and Think.”
A lifesaving instruction that was drilled into us and for good reason. But I think there’s one saying which trumps them all. It was blasted into my impressionable young mind from all directions by family members and teachers alike:
“Don’t talk to strangers.”
Right. I get it. I understand why this was promoted so fiercely. The world can be harsh. Dangerous. We know there are people out there capable of hurting children. History shows us what they are capable of. The horrific Moors murders of the 1960’s were probably still fresh in the minds of the adults of the 1980’s, which meant they were very aware of the potential dangers out there. Then in 1990 two boys abducted a toddler and the world was faced with some scary truths; suddenly, children weren’t even safe from their own. Strangers weren’t just men and women trying to entice little ones into cars with sweets anymore. Danger was everywhere.
“Don’t talk to strangers,” had never been more vital.
Scary times.
But, for me and my boys in the here and now, our days are significantly brightened by our interactions with strangers. I talk to strangers every day. Random grandads outside the supermarket. A nana on the bus. Other parents at the park or library. My boys see this and know that it’s natural to interact with others.
When we enter Stockport library, I let my boys explore. I allow a little feral. Controlled feral. Not pushing all the books off the shelves feral. There are spinning chairs in the middle of the main area and they’re lots of fun to sit on and use for imaginative play. The bookcases are perfect for playing hide and seek and chase. You’re probably reading this and thinking it doesn’t sound like suitable behaviour for a library… and you’re absolutely right. Will not argue with you on that one.
Most of the people in there tap away on keyboards, read books, and generally just ignore my kids or others with similar feral plans. Sometimes parents, like me, who are trying to offer their children freedom while respecting the right of other users to not be dribbled on or disturbed, will gravitate towards each other, discuss their feral kids, and play the who’s-had-less-sleep game. I always win.
There are so many social issues to consider while interacting with new people. I have an appreciation for a person’s personal space and their right to be left alone. There are social anxieties, cultural differences and a vast array of other reasons why a stranger may not want to interact with you or your touchy-feely kids. I explain to both boys the importance of understanding personal boundaries and how to judge through people’s facial expressions and body language whether they want to interact or not. They don’t always get it right but I try and stay alert to their movements so I can jump in before Ove climbs up on some random guy’s knee and starts rewording his emails on the library computer!
But how can they learn to relate to strangers and navigate tricky social interactions without the opportunity to practice and engage? They can’t, can they? There’s risk involved of course. Allowing them to push the boundaries may result in them receiving a telling off from someone. The interaction would then present an opportunity to explain to the boys about what had happened, how it had escalated, and how it could be avoided in the future.
And I’m sure they’d nod, pretend to understand, then do it again five minutes later.
We want to keep our children safe. But in the same breath, we don’t hide all the knives in the kitchen or put armbands on them each time we visit a park to feed the ducks. A spot of common sense is required me thinks. Instead of saying don’t talk to stranger, we tell our boys to never go anywhere, with anyone, without letting us know first. We’ve told Arlo, as gently as possible, that not everyone you meet is a good person. We’ve discussed characters in films who enjoy hurting children or animals (Cruella De Vil is a good example) and this helped to give a little context to the conversation.
There is a saying that sprung to mind recently. Something I have extensive knowledge of.
Ever heard the one about playing with your willy too much? That it’ll drop off! Guess what? Mine’s still fully attached, and I’ve been playing with it for years. I am genuinely concerned for Arlo’s well-being though. If he continues tugging on his, with an enthusiasm I’ve never witnessed before, he could be the first to lose it.
‘Dad. It came off.’
‘I didn’t think it was possible, Son. But you proved me wrong.’
‘What am I going to do now?’
‘You’re going to stop picking your nose for a start.’
(c) Adam Glennon
