What Answer Would Be Acceptable?
I used to babysit a lot throughout high school and let me tell you, most kids love to talk and they love wild, weird speculation. They’re creative as heck and have strong opinions they’re not afraid to broadcast far and wide.
Ask a kid why the sky is blue and they probably won’t be able to give you a scientific breakdown on light refraction, but they can come up with some creative explanation or at least shoot their best guess.
And sure, kids can genuinely say “I don’t know” and mean it. And that’s fine! Frankly, I wish some more adults could own up to gaps in their knowledge without shame.
But “I don’t know” was my go-to response to questions when I was young, not because I didn’t have a single idea or opinion or wild guess. It’s because I learned early on that my ideas and opinions and wild guesses would usually be met with unpredictable, extreme, or scary reactions.
Saying “I don’t know” could at least save me some time to figure out what they wanted to hear.
Because let’s be honest, what answer to “Why did you play in the mud?” would have been acceptable? “Well you see, I’m five. Still new to this planet. Still categorizing interesting substances and textures and it turns out mud is slippery and fun.”
“I saw a kid make mudpies on TV and one thing led to another…” “My mushy child brain is running in tutorial mode and I’m literally not equipped with the tools for rational decision making.” “A goblin told me to.” Let’s be real.
Since my parents were narcissists and everything was about them, what they were really asking me was, “Why did you do something I consider unpleasant to spite me?”
And even as a kid, I could pick up on that. It wasn’t about the action, it was about how they felt about it and what was I going to do to fix that for them. In reality, kids don’t really do things specifically to spite their caregivers.
Thinking that is insane. We wouldn’t make it as a species if our offspring openly and intentionally had it out for us. I could honestly answer “I don’t know…” because I never set out to annoy them as an end in itself. But they were right, it turns out.
All those times they’d scream or sigh, “I don’t know isn’t an answer!” with disappointment and frustration, they were right. It’s not an answer. You can’t answer a question that isn’t a genuine inquiry. You can’t respond to an accusation, a judgment, the unchecked rage that disguises itself as a question.
Not in a way that’s real anyway. Even now as an adult I still struggle to answer even the simplest question with ease and honesty. I catch myself telling small lies for no reason, and that’s a darn hard habit to break.
The lines connecting my thoughts and feelings to what I’m able to communicate are frayed and damaged. All worth it, I guess, so they wouldn’t have to feel things they didn’t like.
So now, let me pose my own question. Do I miss my parents? Absolutely not. And that’s one of the few things I can answer with honesty.