Things I have to say to my kids: Part 1

This is an installment of a series of posts dedicated to the crazy, disturbing and confusing things we as parents have to say to our kids periodically. For years, we have complained that the things we have to say to these... lovely children... are statements and commands we should not have to say to another human being. In all fun, we would like to share our joys and laughter with you people.

Recently:

"Don't finger paint with the honey. Use a knife."

"You don't tickle the dog's ear with your toes."

"If you lick the couch, you need to have a good reason!"

"Stop sniffing your sister's butt!"

"Sweeping the dirt under the eaves of the cabinets doesn't mean the floor is clean."

"Not playing Club Penguin is not the end of the world!"

"What game requires wearing dirty clothes on your head?"

"I don't know any child that has died because they didn't get candy at movie night."

Some past favorites:

"Stop wiping your bread on your sister!"

"Butter is not facepaint."

"That TV cable is not a neck tie!"

"Why would you fingerpaint in the shower with the rest of the leg shaving gel?"

"What have you people got against wiping off the poop on the toilet seat?"

"The dog does not want to be rolled into a ball."

How about you? What have you had to say to your kids you would never think you had to say to another human being?

Aiden is not as tough as he thought

Aiden, his friend, Alen, and I went to FrightTown at the Memorial Collusium in Portland on November 1st, their closing night. Wow, a great Halloween experience. Lots of anticipation in line. We got in, and they wanted the exhibit with the shortest line. Everyone was heading to the Museum of Horrors, the main attraction which, that night, was Dia De Los Muertos, a celebration of spirits. We ended up going to the zombie-filled house of Contagion.

Once out, they were ready to go home.

I received free tickets from work for attending a training about HP Networking. I immediately let Morgan know and we both had the same thought: Aiden would be thrilled to go. Telling him about it made him dance and make excited monkey noises as he insisted he was eager to go with me. This would be his first real haunted house.

Aiden is 10 years old, almost 11. He has liked scary things for a long time, but I still make sure he isn't too scared to let his imagination go wild. I made sure we saw the web site, and we found some videos on YouTube about it and other haunts. They are not anywhere near the tameness of the 1980s when I was a kid. Back in the day, it was more like a freaky museum. I remember Enchanted Forest in Salem, OR, having a haunted house, and it being creepy rather than scary. There were air cannons and animatronics, including the innovative effect of video projection on a blank faced mannequin. Tame, indeed, compared to the brain-eating, screaming actors in today's museum of horrors.

We went into Contagion after a drill instructor character yelled instructions not to touch the zombies and where the exits were throughout the house. We walked in, darkness disturbed only by small pools of light in corners and off in distances. Within a few turns, a zombie actor, a short woman in full zombie makeup and torn clothes jumped out to hiss at us. Alan shrieked and Aiden barked a yip, immediately jumping behind me and burying his face in my butt. He grabbed my jacket and surrounded his head.

Proceeding through the rest of the haunt, that is how Aiden stayed, face buried into the small of my back and looking to the sides until something scary caught his eye making him shut them tight. Alan had his eyes wide open, fingers in his ears, jumping and dancing away from any actor who made eye contact with him.

Once out of Contagion, I wanted to go see the Museum. They wanted to go home, insisting they will never go through a haunted house again, ever. Well, that was Aiden. Alan said he'd give it two years.

Now, I know what you are thinking if you are a parent who protects your children from anything scary. "Oh my lord, you are going to traumatize him and he will be ruined for life and he will be scared of everything!" Alternately, you could be thinking that as I let him watch scary movies and go through haunted houses that make him pee his little boy pants he will be desensitizes to violence and become an ax murderer. I respect the decision for parents to either prevent or allow scary experiences for their children. There is no correlation proven, in fact, that scary experiences must be followed by psychological ripple effects. It is really up to the person.

I take myself as an example. My childhood was spent drawing monsters and watching scary movies. By the time I was in high school, I had a general interest in horror, but it was being diluted by girls and geeky pursuits like computer graphics. Eventually, while horror and gore was a theme here and there in my art, overall it was not a main interest. My parents neither promoted nor prevented my interest in scary or gruesome experiences, though they gave me other experiences that were positive that broke up the darkness.

I contest that this is the point. Shielding your children from all negative aspects of life can make them unprepared when war, politics, famine, disease or even a bad car accident come their way, let alone a scary movie. The point is to balance your child's interest with positivity. Monitor what your kids experience but don't take over their environment.

Aiden doesn't want to go to another haunted house any time soon. That's fine. He didn't have nightmares, we discussed the makeup process of the actors, and he is fine. He still thought it was a great experience, and he insists on keeping the ticket that, while it proves he only made it through one haunt then chickened out, also proves he went and had fun.