Harriet the spy redux
Jan. 13th, 2010 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceI've been thinking today about my niece, who is at that delightful and frustrating age -- just turned three -- where an insatiable urge to understand kind of bursts forth in a constant stream of why. I'm explaining so fast there's not much time to think about my answers or think about what questions are coming next; I'm just talking, answering questions that adults don't often think to ask, and eventually she gets to one -- she always gets to one, that's where these conversations always end -- that I just can't answer. It's a mystery that I wonder about myself from time to time, or else my oddmental store of information has given out on me. She asks, "But why do people want to hurt each other?" and I have to admit that I just don't know.
And I've been thinking about what it says about me that I want to be able to answer all of her questions, want to have all the answers to all the questions filed away so that I never get to the point where I have to say, "I don't know, that's just the way it is." I mean, part of it's just that I distinctly remember how infuriating that wall of I don't know can be. But part of it's just that I never really grew out of the habit of asking those questions, and the only difference between me at three and me at forty is that forty-year-old me has stopped expecting to be told for the asking and has learned to look for the answers. And I guess that is one of the important things I'd want to teach my kids, that most questions have answers, if they look hard enough, and that they should never stop looking if they really want to know.
I can admit it here, right? That most days I don't want children, because I'm afraid of the terrible, terrible ways that I'd fuck them up. But on days like today, I think there's some possibility that I'd make a solidly decent mother. And then I'm sorry that I'm probably never going to get the chance to fuck it up or not. That this is all theory, another unanswered question, and I'm not too crazy about those.
And I've been thinking about what it says about me that I want to be able to answer all of her questions, want to have all the answers to all the questions filed away so that I never get to the point where I have to say, "I don't know, that's just the way it is." I mean, part of it's just that I distinctly remember how infuriating that wall of I don't know can be. But part of it's just that I never really grew out of the habit of asking those questions, and the only difference between me at three and me at forty is that forty-year-old me has stopped expecting to be told for the asking and has learned to look for the answers. And I guess that is one of the important things I'd want to teach my kids, that most questions have answers, if they look hard enough, and that they should never stop looking if they really want to know.
I can admit it here, right? That most days I don't want children, because I'm afraid of the terrible, terrible ways that I'd fuck them up. But on days like today, I think there's some possibility that I'd make a solidly decent mother. And then I'm sorry that I'm probably never going to get the chance to fuck it up or not. That this is all theory, another unanswered question, and I'm not too crazy about those.
