timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
I was reading a blog post about marking age/reading levels on books, and found this wonderful philosophy regarding allowing your kids to read:
[My father] once told a friend who was astounded by something I was reading: “If she’s too young to understand something either it won’t hurt her, or she’ll ask us and we’ll explain it to her. If she’s old enough to understand it, then it won’t hurt her.”

Yes. I was allowed to read pretty much anything, and I think it contributed a lot to my education. Historical fiction is the only reason I know anything about certain historical periods, since I found history class to be unbelievably boring and always tuned out. And I would ask my mother, "Why would this character have done this? Wouldn't it have been a good thing?" and she would explain how the time/culture was so different from what I knew.

I plan to tell my kids they can read anything in the house. I may hide away half-a-dozen or so very explicit books, but that's it. Anything else is fair game.
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
Wow. two posts in one day!

Anyway, just saw this column by Mark Morford about modern parenting and how different it is and complex and OMG the internet and cell phones and pedophiles and isn't everyone in our parents generation glad they don't have to deal with this with their kids?

But, he concluded:

At the root of it, are new parents and their kids not faced with the exact same set of problems they've always faced? That is: hormones, learning, identity, love, balance, where they fit into this mad fireball of a world?

A lovely summary. I wanted to remember it, thus, the post.


Jan. 7th, 2006 12:43 pm
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
I found this entry on one of my library-oriented blogs. This may be the most touching commentary on father/daughter (or parent/child) relationships I've ever seen. I think I need to go home and call my dad. And my mom. And my stepdad.
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
Here's an article (editorial, I guess) about the incredibly different lives kids lead. This one is a little more all-encompassing than the nature-deprivation one:

The Boredom Machine

She certainly makes some good points. When was the last time you saw kids making up their own games? Playing outside unsupervised? They just expect to be entertained by others, thus the "I'm bored" refrain.
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
Someone pointed me to the bad baby names site. I'm dying.

But, she has the best advice ever on baby naming: "I got an e-mail a while back from a lady who said she gave her potential baby names a test: did they fit better in the sentence, 'Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States [blank] [blank]' or 'And now, on the main stage, the Lusty Beaver Adult Club presents the hot action of [blank] [blank].' I think hospital forms should be reformatted to force parents to do just that."

So, so true. And believe me, your kid will not appreciate having to spell his name for everyone he ever meets. Unlike being, say, Kevin, Michael, Andrew, etc.
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
I am going to indoctrinate my kids with this statement early (taken from a concert review, of all things):

silliness trumps cool when it comes to having fun
timepiece: Page of Pentacles from Tarot of the Cat Poeple Deck (Default)
I just finished writing this for my bloglines blog, which I'm pretty sure no one reads, so I'm reposting here for a wider audience.

Reference URL: Growing Up Denatured(NY Times, registration required)

I was just thinking about this the other day, it's part of the reason I would like to move to a semi-rural, or at least much less densely populated area: there's nowhere for kids to play here. Planned playgrounds are simply not the same.

I was not by any means an outdoorsy child, but I remember quite a lot of time spent tramping through various unclaimed lots and neighbors' backyards. Even just reading in a "secret" space in the woods near my house; climbing trees, walking home dripping wet from falling in the lake, finding the shortcut between two subdivisions that saved you from climbing a fence or going an extra half-mile to the connecting road (sadly, that shortcut has now been widened and paved for easier access - my brother and I were both horrified that it looked all "official" now).

A childhood without any experiences like that does seem deprived, as stupid as "nature-deprivation syndrome" sounds. I don't want a child who has never had to be coaxed out of a large tree (as I was - and the coaxing was so we could go home, it wasn't even in my own yard). Or who has never learned for *themselves* some of the inevitable laws of physics which lead to skinned knees, poison ivy, and even broken bones. That child has also never had the delight of learning that rasperries fresh from the cane are much better than the ones in the supermarket, or that toads are actually dry and leathery to the touch, or that everything looks a lot different from 15 feet up a tree.

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